


My Lie to Keep

by LuxuriousRose



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 01:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 202,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14069919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxuriousRose/pseuds/LuxuriousRose
Summary: An aristocrat turned Agent. An Elite captured against his will. One last chance to save Inkopolis.19-year-old Cordelia Firthe was primped for elitism, not for selfless heroics. A feeble attempt at rebellion threw her into the hands of Marie; who involuntarily gifted her the title Agent 4. Saving the Great Zapfish, (and Callie), however, won her no favours. Not only that, but Marie has the audacity to summon her once more, calling her to the depths of Octo Canyon to discuss another matter—an Elite Octoling has been captured. The goal is to pick his brain. But, there is one minor flaw; he can barely speak their language. It’s up to Agent Cordelia to rise to the task. Easy, right? No. There’s one problem; he’s devilishly handsome, and, has an outlandish request—in exchange for priceless information.Will Cordelia manage to pry the secrets that lie beyond his lips? Or, is Inkopolis doomed to repeat history?





	1. Chapter 1

Cordelia swears she can hear her sigh echo through the cavern. Would it be so hard to clean this dreaded grate? The solace in the fluorescent green fluid encasing her form was the only thing keeping her from turning around and going back home to Flounder Heights. She was not looking forward to seeing Marie. No more than a pat on the back had she once received when saving the city’s precious power supply, and her darling cousin. How frigid could she be? Cordelia grumbles as she swims through the rusty grate and surfaces from her ink, forming back into her Inkling self. Her tentacles are bound in a green bun. An instinctive hand cups the base of her bun to ensure its in place. Her lime green coat fits snug against her chest as she pulled the ends of her sleeves to relieve the fabric of wrinkles. It’s important to look one’s best. Even if it’s Marie that she’s dealing with.

Cordelia breathes a sigh of relief as she smells the open air of Octo Canyon. A breeze rustles through her ears as she takes one look around the base. To Marie’s credit, she did keep the place clean, even if the yard was decorated with a gaudy red couch and television set. Should the inkling have expected Marie to take her up on her decorating tips? No. That was presumptuous, even for her. Cordelia warms the tips of her hands. She sees the Hero Shot laying carelessly by the Egg Containment Area. It’s been a while since she donned the weapon. Her fingers get antsy; what she’d do to play with that kind of firepower again. Granted, it was horrid at first, but when Sheldon graciously upgraded it for her, the firepower increased tenfold. She honestly didn’t understand why Marie teased the man as much as she did. He’s been nothing but helpful. He even offered her a chance to take the Hero Shot home with her if she completed a test of trials. While she had considered the thought, she had better things to do with her time than to flounder with Octarians.

Cordelia’s eyes survey the area; no Marie to be found. A pink beanie lays on the bench. She notices it only for the gold star attached, as the glint from the late afternoon sunlight was hard to miss. She didn’t know Marie too well, but she does know that beanie isn’t hers. She carefully approaches the bench as the silence around her becomes suspicious. Marie may be many things (she had a mountain of bullet points that the Inkling singer could improve upon) but tardy is not one of them. Cordelia eyes the Hero Shot and scoots over to pick it up. Her fingers grow cold as she holds the trigger. Chills race up her bare legs; it’s not the thrill that she hoped for. Air fills Cordelia’s lungs as she lets out a drawn sigh. There was no need to be paranoid. She was fabricating her own worries. Oh! She has a thought. That ugly couch would look fantastic in green. Cordelia aims her weapon and takes a shot, one splash encases the entire piece of furniture. Bulls-eye! Excitement creeps into her gut as all reserve melts away. Oh, how alive she feels when the ink makes a satisfying splat on the ground, when it runs down the walls; heck, even the sound it makes when she jumps! A maniacal laugh escapes her throat as she paints the town green; leaving no place unearthed from her treachery. She wouldn’t know what possessed her in that very moment to redecorate Marie’s homestead. All she knew was that she was having a blast. Maybe Cordelia should give Turf Wars a shot. She may have discovered a hidden passion.

“Excuse me!” A familiar low toned voice stops Cordelia in her tracks. She didn’t have to turn around to know Marie was staring her down. The white haired Inkling clears her throat. A low mumble soon after. “I didn’t call you down here to redecorate.”

“But Marie, you _looove_ green!” A chipper voice follows. “And besides, the ink won’t last. It’s biodegradable.” Cordelia’s back stiffens as her ears perk up. She turns her head to see the black haired inkling standing by her cousin. Cordelia’s mouth turns into a wide grin. Marie may be a stick in the mud, but Callie’s always been just dandy in her books. “Oh, Corlie! I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Cordelia, please.” Even though she wasn’t offended, Corlie was just… _ugh_ , it was too cutesy for her. “It’s nice to see you too.” Callie grins as she grabs Marie’s arm. “So should we show her what we found?”

“Not yet.” Marie politely removes her arm from Callie’s grasp, eliciting in a disappointed pout from the older cousin. “A couple of things.” Marie scans the green haired inkling briefly, her gold eyes locked on the Hero Shot in her hand. “It’s nice to see you don’t need a warm up. Did you participate in Turf Wars as I had suggested?”

“Of course not.” Cordelia crosses her arms, dropping the Hero Shot and shifts her body to the side. “It’s too fussy, and I’m not a fan of being targeted for play.”

“Yet you had no problem navigating the trenches of Octo Canyon?” Marie sounds amused, which makes Cordelia frown. “I’m not messing with you, despite what you may think. You’ve got skill, and I’d like to see you put that skill to good use.”

Did Marie really think that of her? Cordelia preferred the thought that Marie had a stick up her ass. There was no need for compliments now. What was this Inkling buttering her up for? But, it’d be rude not to thank her.

“That’s …uh, quite nice of you to say, actually. Thanks.” Cordelia offers a half-hearted laugh as Marie sports her signature shit-eating grin.

“Humility doesn’t look half bad on you.”

“Don’t start, Marie.” Callie warns. “I’m not dealing with this tonight.”

“What?” Marie feigns ignorance. “I have absolutely no idea what you mean?” Despite her initial reaction to arriving, Cordelia enjoys the banter between the cousins. If Marie let the playful side of her emerge from her stern exterior, maybe, the two of them could be friends. “Right. As I was saying. You probably don’t need a refresher on how to aim a gun.” Her eyes scan the base. “The green wonderland shows me you’ve got an aim that’s tried and true.” Cordelia doesn’t appreciate the detected sarcasm. “And …here’s the hard bit. We’re spotted Octarian forces rising up.” As she speaks, Cordelia can’t help but notice Callie’s posture stiffen. Right. Having her brain scrambled must have been an unpleasant experience. Cordelia feels like an ass. She never asked how Callie was coping. But, maybe it was better not to. “Cordelia, don’t space out. I need you to listen to this.”

“I’m listening. Continue.” Cordelia nods. She’ll do her best to show it this time.

“As I was saying. I was tracking their movements, and it’s got me worried how far they were able to travel undetected. I thought the system I had Sheldon install was efficient, but it seems that I have miscalculated their methods of transportation.”

“Y-yeah, and I… I don’t remember too much of what happened, but I do know that their technology has advanced since I was, um, you know.” It’s understandable why Callie wouldn’t want to elaborate. “It’s probably because of us why they enhanced their toolset.”

“As Callie said, the Octarian forces would have learned what works, and what doesn’t. Your infiltration would be paramount.” Marie’s voice softens. “Do you remember what areas you had the most difficulty with?”

Cordelia shudders when she recalls the large bowling balls rolling down the track of Paradise Lanes. _GUH_. How could the Octarians willingly roll themselves to their doom like that was beyond her. If she were in a devilish contraption like that, she wouldn’t know what to do with herself, besides hurl.

“Paradise Lanes.” Cordelia sighs. “It’s hard avoiding those huge bowling balls.”

“That was all?” Marie hums as her grin returns. “I recall you having difficulties with a lot more than rolling bowling balls.”

Cordelia doesn't want to admit this out loud; she felt this strange sensation of being  _watched_. It made sense since she was an outsider infiltrating enemy camps, yet... the feeling never died. Cordelia wished she could attribute her gut feeling to paranoia, however, a figure in a white trench coat always seemed to appear wherever she was... Cordelia shakes her head. 

“If you’re so good at remembering my faults, then pray tell _Marie_ , jog my memory.” Numbness trickles in Cordelia’s gut. That came out harsher than intended. Marie doesn’t speak. She looks to her cousin while she shakes her head. It seems the two do an exchange without words; nothing needs to be said between them. Cordelia raises a finger but waits for the moment between the cousins to pass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“And I shouldn’t have pressed you like that.” Marie admits through half grated teeth. “I didn’t mean to stir you up. But…” Marie’s brows furrow. “It’s important to be aware of one’s faults. Normally, it’s to improve upon one’s self, but in this case, it could help us spot some of the Octarians’ weak points. The trials you had difficulty with could easily point out where they could be slacking.”

Marie did have a point. Cordelia would need more time to reflect on her weaknesses. That wasn’t something she was comfortable doing here and now. “Could I mull over it for a bit and come back to you?”

Marie nods. “We do have time, sort of…”

“I know it’s not glamorous, but are you willing to take the mantle of Agent 4 once more?” Callie speaks, both girls give the black haired Inkling their full attention. “I’d do it myself, but… You can speak Octarian, right?”

Speak _Octarian?_ What the heck was she talking about?

“Callie, I wanted to brief her before we asked.” Marie speaks in a low whisper.

“Sorry!” She whispers back. “I know it’s going to be hard, but can you just ignore what I said there?” She laughs, as Marie lets out a long drawn sigh.

“Why I called you here is because I have suspicions that the Octarians have been planning a counterattack against us for over a decade. Yes, we learned that the hypno-waves from Octavio’s turntable may have been the cause of the rise-up, but there are Octarians who genuinely hate our kind. We know that some species of Octarians are bred in a lab, and are fighting machines. They can’t identify what is right or wrong, only what they are told. That, I fear is the plague that will be released among Inkopolis.”

 _An army of fabricated soldiers who have no will of their own…_ Well, that’s frightening. Cordelia bits her lip to refrain from asking, _Now where do I fit in all of this?_

“I wish I could do more.” Callie frowns. “But I could be tainted. They were able to brainwash me once. Who says they couldn’t mess with me again once it best suits them?” Callie’s face drops as Marie’s hand rubs the back of her cousin’s shoulder.

“It’s not your fault.” Marie soothes her in the moment. “It’s not your job to do it all. Let me and Agent 4 help you figure this out.”

Hold on… Help Callie figure it out? Was this Callie’s doing? From what Cordelia gathered, Marie was the initiator. But, it would make sense that Callie would understand things the two of them wouldn’t. She was amongst the Octarian race as one of them. She didn’t want to know what Callie’s thoughts were beyond what she was willing to share.

“Okay.” Callie nods. “I think we need to show Agent 4 what we found.” Her fingers grasp the hand of the white haired Inkling. A tremor runs up Cordelia’s back. It can’t be a good sign that Callie is acting nervous. Marie motions with a finger to follow them.

Cordelia can’t help but notice how quickly the sky darkens. She notices Callie’s soft pink sweater. The colour matches the beanie she had found when she first arrived. Cordelia should have had an idea, but she didn’t know Callie sported beanies. A detail Cordelia fails to miss; Callie is still holding her cousin’s hand. It encourages Cordelia to hold her own hands together. The tips of her fingers are cold, but she doesn’t complain. She takes a deep breath as she feels a tingling sensation in her legs. Was it always this cold in Octo Canyon? No. She was nervous. However, curiosity bound Cordelia to her word. To call her out again like this; it had to be something big.

Callie and Marie halt as the white haired Inkling motions her hand towards the containment center. It’s clear Callie won’t take another step. Cordelia couldn’t see beyond the translucent plexiglass at first, just a puddle of …purple ink. Did they capture some kind of Octarian?

“Agent 4…” Marie’s brows scrunch downward. “It might not look like it, but within that ink is an Elite Octoling. We managed to capture him within the tunnel to Inkopolis, by fluke, squid forbid.” Marie’s breathing tenses. “I need you to communicate with him.”

“Communicate?” Cordelia raises a brow of her own. “I can’t even see him.”

“He’s been hiding in his own ink all day.” Marie shakes her head. “I can’t speak Octarian, and Callie… I think we both know why she can’t do it.” Her gold eyes lock on Cordelia’s blue ones. “I know the Firthe Family is well spoken in the primary cephalopodic dialects, including _Octarian_.” Her eye contact breaks. “I didn’t want to ask you at first, because I know how you feel about—”

“You need someone to communicate with the Octoling about this war, or whatever they’re doing. I get it.” Cordelia shuts Marie down. There was no need to discuss her family. “But who says he’ll talk to me? What if we’re fed incorrect information?”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” Marie takes a step forward. “There’s one last thing. I’m going to need you to enter the containment center. Don’t worry, he’s unarmed.” Oddly enough, Cordelia wasn’t worried about the proximity. She could hold her own in a fight.

“Okay. Yeah, I’ll do it.” Cordelia shrugs. “If it’s for the fate of Inkopolis, who am I to say no?”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Marie points to the wall nearest to Cordelia. “You should be able to slip through the grate. It’s Octarian proof, so it’s meant to keep him in.” She makes a swim motion with her arm. “Any trouble and all you need to do is swim right back out again.”

“Got it.” Cordelia nods before resuming to squid form, plopping through the grate. It was important to note this grate was well kept, and easy to slip through. Within seconds, she’s behind the very glass she had trouble seeing through. It’s spacious in here, the floor deeper than she had expected. She sees the puddle of purple ink; tremors go through her legs. She doesn’t notice Marie’s warning to watch her back, or she wouldn’t have been pinned down so recklessly. Cordelia’s lungs are restricted. She can barely breathe. She attempts to speak, but all that surfaces is a croak.

 _< About time someone showed up.>_ A deep chilling voice speaks above her. _< I’ve been waiting all day for this.> _


	2. Chapter 2

The tile is cold against Cordelia’s skin. Her heart pounds against her chest; she can hear it through her ears. An unpleasant sound Cordelia regrets hearing again; her close calls as Agent 4 had shown her that. Her control is limited by her attacker; her arms have limited mobility. If this was the elite Octoling Marie was talking about, why doesn’t she feel the cool weight of the signature breastplate the Elites preferred? Cordelia reminds herself that’s not the pressing issue here. She growls to herself, humiliation creeps into her gut. If she had the chance to strike back, this _creature_ would be on their ass.

 _< I_ ' _m surprised the bitch didn’t come here by herself. Knocked me a couple good ones I’d say… Instead she sends in a rookie like you? Pathetic. > _

His voice sends chills down her back. It’s cool, calculating, downright _frightening_. At least he didn’t have the scent of alcohol on his breath.  <Don’t think you can squid form your way out of this, either. It won’t work beyond the grate.>

No, that couldn’t be right. Cordelia tries, but to no avail. Dammit, he’s right. But, if that was the case, how could he do it? He was _apparently_ hiding in his own puddle of ink. Dammit, Marie!

<G-Get off!> She wheezes, not sporting her best Octarian accent. <I can’t—breathe!>

Her body regains mobility as the weight from her back is removed. Why he backed off in that moment, she’d never know. Maybe she surprised him by understanding his dialect?  Cordelia wants to gasp for air, but reminds herself to get up. Maybe there was a chance to turn this around. Nope. It was obvious to both of them she had no control of the situation. Her attempt to stifle a gasp failed, resulting in her buckling to her knees to breathe. She couldn’t stay like this for long. His silence was eerily uncomfortable. Cordelia (ungracefully) hops to her feet, anchoring her heels into the ground. She eyes his form again. His broad frame has Cordelia debating a change in strategy. He’s _tall_. In what universe could Marie take him down? It bothers her that she can’t see his face. He wasn’t wearing armor. Instead, she sees (or thinks she sees) a leather jacket, matched with tight fabric pants. To Cordelia, he looks like a regular Octoling. How did Marie know this one was an Elite? She can’t see his face, so maybe there’s some kind of marking she’s missing.

One thing is certain. If this asshat was going to try force, he’d have to deal with hell. Oh? She stops mid-thought. She takes a few blind swipes at the air to confirm she’s not immobile. _That should show him!_ She slowly takes a step forward. She had to try anything to let him know she was sure of herself.

<This is insulting.> His snide remark makes Cordelia’s fingers curl into a fist. She instinctively pulls her arm back in case she needs to sucker punch the bastard. <Agent 2’s got no regard for your life, does she?>

Cordelia’s had enough for his words. Not for Marie’s sake; he’s tried her patience long enough. _< Cut the crap.>_ She growls. <Either you’re going to talk, or you’re going to face the consequences.>

Cordelia barely makes a sound as she’s proven wrong. Her body makes a loud thud as it meets the ground once more. She’s pinned on her back as the arm of her attacker is pressed against her throat. _Rrgh._ She pulls her free arm forward, but is stopped by the strength of his own. _Damn it all._ Cordelia attempts to free herself by wiggling from his grasp, however, stops when her eyes lock on his. His chin protrudes forward, giving off the angle of his toned jawline. She notices a stray black tentacle draped upon his forehead, although barely visible. His presumed grin softens into an O shape as his brows raise in surprise. Her cheeks grow warm. _Oh_ _… Oh no._

He’s attractive.

Fuck.

Cordelia feels his grip loosen as she takes the opportunity to roll away from him. She hops to her feet, pressing her back against the plexiglass. <S-Stay where you are.> Yes, you tall, _masculine_ , enemy perpetrator. <I mean it.>

She can hear his presumptuous smile as he speaks. <Did I _scare_ you? > He says as she hears his footsteps coming closer. <I thought you said you were tough.> Cordelia raises her hand as a meagre act of defence, but he gently pins it over her head, his tight leather jacket lets out a soft stretching sound.

His voice softens as he challenges her with a smile. <If you’re so strong, break away from this hold.> _Oh no, oh no, oh no!_ Cordelia attempts to move her arm but it feels like jelly. She _doesn_ _’t_ want to move it. Was there something in that ink of his? She didn’t get any of it on her clothes, but who knows what lay within that purple goo? This would be a _fantastic_ time for Marie to intervene.

The Elite Octoling’s eyes sparkle with intrigue as he holds his gaze on her. She can see him thinking, but of what, she wasn’t sure. All she knew is that he was no longer attacking her, which had to be a good sign. <How about we make a deal?> His voice purrs. <You ask me a question and I have to answer it truthfully. But, in exchange…> He leans closer. <You have to let me...> His fingers trail up her sides. <...Get something in return.>

“What?!” Cordelia blurts out in her Inkling tongue. She wasn’t going to whore herself out to some Octoling. She pulls her hand out of his grasp as she turned away from him. He couldn’t have believed she’d go for that. <I don’t even know your name, not that I’m interested to.>

<Are you sure? I’ve been told that my name is strong, _seductive_. > Cordelia’s going to pretend he didn’t say that.

<No. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to do whatever it is that you want.> Her tone is firm. Even if she would want to imagine it later, now was not the time, _or the place_ for any such thoughts.

He raises a brow. <I meant a kiss, or something mild. I didn’t mean, unless…> He grins as Cordelia purses her lips. <You’re interested in some _other_ activities? >

Cordelia’s cheeks grow warm. <You wanted to kill me moments ago, and now you’re insinuating that we…?>

<I might have misjudged the situation, alright? You’re not as threatening as I had thought, so there’s no need to be aggressive with you.> No, it was because he found her cute, which might have saved her skin. Honestly, she could never understand the Octarian culture… She tightly crosses her arms, looking at the face of the amused Octoling. She didn’t want to admit it, but he was easy on the eyes. Cordelia moans. If it’s only a kiss he’s after, that shouldn’t be so bad.

<Are you saying if I … _kiss_ you, you’ll share with me information that can bring the entire Octarian nation to its feet? > She regrets phrasing it that way, but that _was_ the deal. Her job was to communicate with the Octoling and gather intel—is that not what she was doing? Cordelia wants to sigh, but she can’t look too doubtful.

<Whatever will make you say yes.> His eyes glint. Did she have to prepare for a ruse? <So, do we have a deal?>

<Hold on.> He would have to prove he wasn’t full of shit. <Tell me something, and if it sounds believable, you get a peck.> She points to her base of her cheek. _< That_ _’s it. >_

<Fine. If that’s how you want to start, but I get my side of the bargain first. I can’t be sure if I trust some novice Inkling spy.> Cordelia rolls her eyes and consents. What she wasn’t expecting was his arms to lift her off the ground. He guides her back against the glass behind her. His mouth encapsulates her own as she feels his slick tongue dance with hers. _Wow._ She feels his hands begin to wander, but ceases as both hear hammering on the glass.

The Octoling lowers her onto her feet. <Now this is an arrangement I can get behind.>

<N-not so fast.> Cordelia has to clear her throat before she succumbs to any more of his tricks. <I gave you _more_ than what I agreed to. Now pay up. > Cordelia wasn’t expecting him to be so forthcoming.

<Since you’re being _generous,_ I’ll share a detail you might want to know.> His face falls from a grin to a serious frown. <I was sent to retrieve Marina from her post in Inkopolis. Let _her_ explain why. >

<But that’s not part of the deal, you can’t just leave parts out!> Cordelia says before she discovers they aren’t alone in the room. Marie has arrived, and her furrowed brows reveal she is not happy.

“Back off, _Octarian_.” Marie says, knowing full well he can’t understand her. She doesn’t care. “Agent 4, come back to your station. We’re done here.” Marie grabs her sleeve and guides her to the grate. The Octoling offers a casual wave to Cordelia, and what possessed her to wave back, she wasn’t sure.

Cordelia takes in a deep breath of fresh air, allowing the free air of Octo Canyon to fill her lungs. Marie doesn’t give her much time to relax.

“Look, Agent 4. I’m sorry I let him attack you like that. Are you okay?” Her usual composed posture is slumped. Her white tentacles look out of place. She did look the part of worried companion, except, she wasn’t that at all. How could Marie watch the Octoling strangle her like that? Why didn’t she step in then? There was no point getting into it with her now. It’d just make her angry. 

“I held my own, as you clearly saw.” Cordelia narrows her eyes.

“But, when he held you against—you know—and…” Marie grunts as a crimson blush stains her pale complexion. “This was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have assumed he’d play by any kind of rules.”

“Not quite.” Cordelia lifts her finger. “I was misled into thinking he wanted an innocent little kiss, but that isn’t really a bad thing.”

“How so?” Marie raises a brow.

“He told me why he was heading into the city.” Cordelia continues, “He said he was asked to fetch Marina from her post in Inkopolis.”

“Her _post?_ ” Marie scratches her chin. “That can’t be true. Marina told me personally that our music healed her of any malicious intent.”

“Unless she believes that revenge upon her homeland _isn_ _’t_ malicious.” Cordelia pales. “Which means we need to figure out what her motive is.”

“I hope he’s misleading us.” Marie’s voice lowers. “I wouldn’t want to believe our friend is a turncoat.”

“I assume you, or I… or someone should talk to her.” Cordelia is finding it hard to concentrate on Marie. Her head begins to fog as she feels her knees weaken. Ugh. Now is not the time for bodily dysfunctions.

“It’s alright. You’ve dealt with enough today. Thanks for putting up with him.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Cordelia brushes a finger against her lips. Was it though? This feeling she had inside of her. She turns back to the containment center and sees that she can’t see him. That may be for the best. Out of sight, out of mind; a term heard throughout her life. She hopes it holds true to tonight.

“Because if it isn’t,” Marie begins, “you’re not obliged to do this. If this lead is legit, it could show us more than we need to help quell the uprising.” Cordelia wasn’t going to lie. She found it flattering that Marie offered her concern. “I think you should go home, and I’ll arrange a meeting with Marina.”

Cordelia surveys the area and sees what she thinks is Callie barely lit by the nearby streetlamp. Maybe, just maybe it was time for her to go home. “I think you’re right. Just give me a call when you find out more.”

“Good night, Agent 4, and good work …for what that’s worth.”

“Thanks, you too.”

Cordelia offers a polite wave to Marie as she takes her leave. She offers the same courtesy to Callie. It was obvious Marie didn’t tell here what went on between Cordelia and the Elite Octoling, but there was no need to upset the black haired Inkling. She kept her lips tight about the interactions between them and offered Callie a good night.

 

Cordelia steps back into her condo located in the posh Flounder Heights. It was generous of her father to buy her housing, even if she didn’t deserve it. She flings her lime jacket on the floor and stares at the familiar decor. Shivers cross her body as she envisions the interactions between her and the Elite Octoling. She’s thankful she chose to withhold her name. If he had told her his, her thoughts may wander to impure scenarios. They may anyway. Cordelia groans into her hands, failing to notice the twinkle of the stars outside her window. She had a fantastic view of the Great Ocean. When the skies at night were clear, it was a breathtaking view to behold. The green haired Inkling carries herself to her bedroom, falling on her luxurious white sheets. She slips off her black shorts and white tee, leaving herself in silky black undergarments. She’d sleep like this each night, as she found pyjamas to be a hindrance (more clothes to wash, after all). She allows her green tentacles to unravel from their tight bun, leaving them to flow down her back. No one realized how long she had grown them, however, it was fun to keep the secret until she was dolled up. Cordelia blinks as she stares at the ceiling. What she’d give for that Octoling to ravish her mouth again— _oh no_ , it’s started. Cordelia’s tempted to cover a pillow over her face and scream, but she doesn’t. It’s clear she needs a good time, something to get her mind off of him. If Marie doesn’t need her tomorrow, she may go on a date night—or any kind of outing—to distract herself. She severely needed it.


	3. Chapter 3

Cordelia’s silk laced sheets blanket her with the desire to stay in bed. The incessant chipper of her unusually high pitched ring-tone forces the Inkling out of her comforts, leaning over her bed to grab the noisy device. A quick flip of her fingers silences it, as she sees the name _Agent B*tch_ bounce on the screen. It’s almost noon, but her caller wouldn’t care, she’s also a night owl. A groan escapes her throat as she answers the call.

“Yes, Marie?”

“You weren’t answering the secure line. You know I hate calling you on your cell.”

“It’s not tapped, okay? Just keep your tentacles on.” Cordelia’s not ready for one of her lectures. “Anyways, you’re calling because you need me, right?”

“I might.” Marie stalls briefly before continuing. Cordelia would like to know why. “In light of yesterday’s _events_ ,” she clears her throat, “I believe I need your assistance. If I remember correctly, you’re …uh, _somewhat_ acquaintances with Pearl, right?”

“We went to the same finishing school, yes.” Cordelia had nothing but praises for the idol. In fact, Cordelia looked up to the older Inkling. Only two years her senior at _Punctshoal School for the_ _Proper Heiress_ , she didn’t take to being told how a _lady_ should act. Cordelia remembers seeing Pearl skirt through the halls past curfew and sneaking around with a couple of the bolder girls of their house. Cordelia admired her spirit. Just shy of 15, Cordelia didn’t have the confidence she needed to break free. She had to smile when Off The Hook was introduced; hearing Pearl’s name displayed across the radio was a marvel to uphold. She had made a name for herself, _without_ her family name plastered across her identity. If only Inkopolis knew what Cordelia had done for the city. Maybe then she’d get the recognition she deserved.

“Earth to 4, _hellooo_.” Marie’s voice pulls Cordelia from her thoughts.

“Yes, I know Pearl. But I don’t see how that’s going to help.” Cordelia frowns.

“I was hoping you could come with me to _distract_ Pearl while I chat with Marina.”

“Does Marina suspect that you’re Agent 2?”

Silence. Then, “4, I don’t feel comfortable disclosing this on a public line.” Cordelia hears a metallic sigh—how coincidental that the service cuts out at this moment. Marie was going to have a heyday. “No, I don’t believe she does.”

“Did you notice the service line?” The green haired Inkling teases. “If it’s an impostor, what are we going to _dooo_?”

“If someone’s tapping the line, we’re already screwed, then aren’t we? Just get dressed and I’ll meet you at the squidbucks down the street in a half an hour. Is that enough time to make yourself punk-chic?” Cordelia can hear that cheeky grin over the phone.

“That’s plenty of time. Just don’t be late.”

“Never am.” Marie ends the call. Cordelia forgets that Marie and her cousin live close by. She whips the sheets from her body and throws herself from bed, walking straight to her closet. She’s thankful she had a shower the night before. Cordelia opens the door and studies the contents inside. She could wear her White Inky Rider, it’s casual enough for a visit, and made her seem more edgy than her current style would lead anyone to believe. That means she should pair them with the Punk Whites. Cordelia chooses to ignore her sun-dresses, much to her dismay. She’s liked her classic, airy feminine appearance. She looks to her vanity mirror and sees the Tinted Shades lying flat on their side. Despite how they may clash, she did like those shades. Cordelia ties her tentacles into a quick bun and nestles the shades onto her head. She surveys the table for her makeup and lines her lashes with a bit of mascara, then topping up her lips with a sparkly pink gloss. If this didn’t say punk-chic, she didn’t know what would. Cordelia makes a final trip to the bathroom, the window overlooking the Great Ocean. She notices the sun’s light trickling atop the waves. This view never got old. It takes a minute to brush her teeth. She’s careful to pack a few gums, in case she grabs a coffee. Coffee breath wasn’t pleasant for anyone to come in contact with.

 

Nerves creep in Cordelia’s gut as she sees the giant Squidbucks logo. The minute she steps into the coffee shop, she would be on her way to meet with the Off the Hook stars. She’s met Marina once when the Squid Sisters and Off The Hook did a collab concert (thanks to Callie’s backstage passes—the closest thing to a _thank you_ that she had received), however, she didn’t get to see Pearl. Something about _date night_ preparations… Marina seemed nice, but she looked distracted. Cordelia thought it might have been to do with the aforementioned date night, but now she’s not so sure…

“Oh, Cordelia.” She doesn’t recognize Marie's introduction at first, but it makes sense why Marie wouldn’t call her Agent 4 in a public setting. The white haired Inkling sports her signature Agent 2 getup; a hat with a matching green hoodie. Her face mask hangs loose on her neck instead of her face. “I know I said punk, but you… No, I’m sorry. You’re trying your best.” Cordelia hears the amusement in Marie’s tone.

“Yeah, laugh it up.” The Inkling narrows her eyes. “You know Pearl’s going to see right through this getup.”

“Good thing; it’ll give the two of you something to talk about.” Marie stirs her latte as she points to the other latte beside her. “That’s for you. Extra caffeinated, just how you like it.”

Cordelia appreciates the gesture. She grabs the drink and takes a gentle sip. It’s warm and tingles her throat.” Just like the kiss she had the day before- _No. Not now._ Cordelia places the drink down and pauses. If she were to ask Marie about the Octoling, would she grow suspicious? No, what would she have to be suspicious about? Inquiring of their detained suspect shouldn’t be misleading. Detained Suspect. _Nice choice of words, Cordelia._ She should ask about Marina first.

Cordelia clears her throat to get Marie’s attention. “Were you able to set a time with Pearl and Marina?”

“Marina said to give them an hour to spice the place up. But I don’t see why they need it. Their place is clean 24/7.” Is that bitterness Cordelia detects in the Inkling’s voice? Cordelia imagined Marie to be a tidy individual. Based on assumption alone, Cordelia assumed an hour with Marie would be hell, but perhaps they could have some fun. What other secrets could she pry from the girl’s lips?

“So what do we do, just hang out?” Cordelia shrugs. “I mean, I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Nice.” Marie rolls her eyes. “That's so nice of you to say.”

Cordelia shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Maybe this was the perfect time to bring up the Octoling. “How is that Elite Octoling today? Still hiding in that puddle of ink?” Cordelia does her best to sound neutral.

“He was lively this morning. Whatever you said to him seemed to get him out of his stupor.” Marie says while stirring her finger in her drink. Clearly, Marie arrived earlier than Cordelia had thought, especially if her drink was cool enough to do that. “Why do you ask?”

“I was curious.” Cordelia looks to the door, hoping Marie won’t press further. 

“If you’re asking about additional details, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint. But now that he’s done sulking… No. Never mind.”

“What?” Cordelia’s ears twitch at the mention. Was she going to ask her to communicate with him again? What had happened to the two agreeing to cease contact unless it was necessary?

“Being _harassed_ was not part of your job description.” Marie takes a sip of her drink. “And before you decide to be a smart-ass, I’m referring to his unwanted advances on you. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment. No woman does.”

Not that Cordelia doesn’t appreciate Marie’s _Girl Power_ angle, but she doesn’t need to be concerned. Cordelia puts the breaks on that thought. It’s right of Marie to be uneasy about this kind of arrangement. Any _normal_ Inkling would be. It’s Cordelia that needs to be careful. He might be hot. _Incredibly hot_. However, that doesn’t mean he’ll be forthcoming. “Thanks for saying that, but… I told him it was okay. I mean, if it helps us weed information out of him, what’s so bad about that? I can take one for the team.”

Marie says nothing as she gently lowers her drink.

“You know, for the job. For Inkopolis. The safety of our civilians.” Cordelia grins as her shoulders roll into a shrug. “Easy, right?”

“Cordelia, I admire your dedication.” Marie bites her lip. “I feel awful about it, but you’re right. It might be our best chance. But!” Marie wipes her cheek. “Only if his lead is accurate. If not…” Her eyes lower. Cordelia doesn’t want to imagine what the white haired Inkling is picturing. Her furrowed brows indicate that it’s devious. “He’s going to regret stooping so low. It’ll be the torture chamber for him.” Cordelia’s unsettled by the glint in Marie’s gold eyes. So, this is what she’s really like… Colour her intrigued. “Maybe I should, for Callie’s sake.”

Speaking of whom, “I noticed Callie isn’t here. She not comfortable with the plan?” Cordelia regrets saying the last part. It was a stupid question, of course Callie would be uncomfortable with it, and rightly so.

“No, she’s got a case of the sniffles. Sneezing all morning; it’s why I arrived earlier than planned.” Ah, so Cordelia was right, Marie did arrive before her. “But she wishes us the best of luck.”

Unease fills Cordelia’s mind. Marie said they’d have to wait an hour before the two would meet the idol duo. Their fame doesn’t daunt her one bit—Marie was proof that fame did not mean you were exempt of flaws. It’s Pearl that’s got her stomach in knots. 4 years was a long time. Would she even _remember_ who Cordelia was? Perhaps it was for the best that she didn’t. Her lips curve into a frown. It was better that the frosted tip Inkling graduated before Cordelia’s sweet-sixteen arrived. That year, she decided enough was enough and made her own name for herself. She was envied by many, but at the cost of her humanity. She can’t even count on both hands the reputations she’s ruined by her torment. Cordelia wasn’t a nice individual, even her own mother said she had a viper’s tongue. She feels like life had served her just rewards, however. No friends to speak of, or a title to brandish. She was barely on the cusp of disinheritance. She had to come up with examples of her life that didn’t suck. Small talk would be a challenge. 

“Did I get your order wrong?” Marie’s inquisitive stare grabs her attention. “You look disgusted.”

Cordelia lets out a curt _“No.”_

“Okay, just asking.” Marie rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone. “Back to this again, are we?” The Inkling mutters under her breath. Cordelia leans back in her chair and decides to mimic Marie, her too pulling out her phone. Her peridot encrusted case reflects in the early afternoon sunlight. The glint from the faux stones distracts Marie from her browsing. She doesn’t say anything; her eyes curiously fix on the object.

“Got it online, if you’re interested in one.” Cordelia says flatly. “It’s a knock-off if you can believe it.”

“Interesting…” Marie hums. “You don’t seem the type to purchase faux-brands. Maybe you’re one of us after all.” Oh boy, there’s that shit-eating grin again.

“You wish.” It’s Cordelia’s turn to mutter under her breath.

Marie holds her stare briefly. “It’s a nice colour.”

“...Thanks.” Both girls silently decide to continue browsing. It would be easier if Callie were here. Being alone with Marie turned out not to be much fun. Not that she was _too_ surprised. Time couldn't fly fast enough.

 

It doesn’t take long to reach _Salmonsuave_ _Suites_ , located twenty minutes by cable-car. The building is tall, _really_ tall. Cordelia swears she can see vultures circling the top of the building. Both Marie and Cordelia enter the steel plated door. They exchange glances before the white haired inkling presses the buzzer. Pearl and Marina’s unit is on the top floor, she shouldn’t be surprised. A soft voice speaks from the intercom: “Ooh, Marie, and Cordelia! Hi! Come on in!” It’s easy to tell that it’s Marina. Marie’s stone cold face leads Cordelia to believe that it’s an act. She can tell Marie doesn’t want to interrogate her friend, or believe she was capable of treachery. Cordelia didn’t want to believe it either. Yet, was it horrible that a part of her did want Marina to be guilty? That meant she could exchange favours with the Octoling… Oh _no_ , not this again. _Dammit Cordelia, focus!_ Thankfully Marie couldn’t hear her thoughts.

Both take the elevator; the reflective wall acts as a mirror for the green haired inkling to primp herself. She forgets her punk attire and inwardly groans when her eyes focus on the leather jacket. Thankfully her eyeliner is in check—oh wait—no it’s not. Cordelia makes a careful swipe under her eyelid to prevent any smudging. Marie takes no such precautions, her eyes are fixated on the elevator door. They would have time to prepare. The elevator is slower than she’s used to. She pulls some gum from her pocket. Marie cocks her head as Cordelia slowly meets her gaze. “What?”

“What flavour?” Marie asks.

“Mint.” Cordelia sticks the gum in her mouth. She looks at the packet, then back at Marie. “You don’t by chance…want a piece?”

“That’d be nice of you.” Marie teases.

“Fine.” An eye roll later and she hands the pack of gum to Marie.

“Much obliged.” Marie says before popping the stick of gum in her mouth. “Try to be civil with Pearl, alright? I need her distracted while I converse with Marina. We can’t afford to have this compromised, we might not get another chance.”

“Who do you think I am, an amateur?” Cordelia stuffs her hands in her pockets. “I saved Inkopolis for squit sakes!”

“It’s not that I doubt your abilities as an agent. You can be ...how do I say, _sharp-tongued_ at times. Just don’t do anything to offend Pearl, at least until I give the signal to leave.” Marie’s curved lips hint at a joke. “She’s thick skinned though, so I’m sure she can survive the wit of _Cordelia Firthe_.”

“Would you shut up-” The ding of the elevator interrupts Cordelia’s sentence. Marie cocks a brow and a grin as she exits the elevator first. Cordelia mutters a _you_ _’re lucky we’re here_ before letting out a sigh. Their door was the only one on this floor, it’s gold-rimmed appearance was a strike difference from the jet coloured stones that line their path.

The door opens before Marie has a chance to knock. A pair of smiling faces greet them both. Marina’s long sleeved knitted sweater complements her curvy frame. Cordelia notices her legs are bare. She _has_ to be wearing shorts underneath. _Of course she is, Cordelia. Don_ _’t be a pervert._ Her eyes are drawn to Pearl who’s draped in an over-sized teal sweater with black leggings. She looks relaxed, compared to Cordelia’s _trying-too-hard-_ chic. Marina and Pearl greet Marie first, which makes sense. Both know (and have performed) with her.

“It’s good to see you again, Cordelia!” Marina’s smile is wide. She’s genuinely happy to see her. It comes as a surprise, they only met once. “You look _adorable_ in that jacket. I know someone who owns that very brand.”

“Marina.” Pearl gives the frosted tip Octoling a side glance. “You’re doing that _thing_ again.”

“Right. Sorry.” Marina ushers Cordelia and Marie into the living area—Holy hell. Their ceiling was taller than hers by a landslide. Window panels make up the living room wall; their view of the Great Ocean was far more expansive than hers. Maybe she’d leave her space and live in this building. What was the tower called again?

“Please sit, I’ll go get the tea.” Marina leaves Pearl to play hostess as she makes her way to the kitchen. Cordelia eyes Marina’s rear to confirm—yes—she is indeed wearing shorts.

“Cordelia, it’s been what—4 years since I last saw you? Marina told me that I missed you at our last concert.”

“Oh, it’s no bother.” Cordelia feels her heart pound. It’s fine. She’s got this. “It’ll be more pleasurable to catch up.”

Pearl eases herself on the white settee across from Cordelia and stretches her arms. She crosses her legs as she examines Cordelia’s outfit. “Never thought you to be the edgy type, but then again you were just a kid when I saw you last.

“I thought I’d try a different look for the occasion. I do like to experiment with my wardrobe.” Pearl’s nod confirms that she buys the fib. “Although the shades are my favourite. They’re simple, but have this nifty talent of deflecting the sun.”

“Yeah, they’re rad.” Pearl chuckles. “I dig it.” Marie excuses herself to help Marina with the tea. When Marie leaves, Pearl leans forward, crossing her hands as her legs part. “So, why are you _really_ here?” Her voice lowers into a whisper. “She brings _you_ , and Callie is nowhere to be seen. Marie does _not_ make social calls.”

 _Oh no. Oh no! Come on Cordelia, think of something_ _… Anything!_

“Marie and I have decided to become friends. And, I know what you’re thinking. Me, being friends with the sarcastic and _sultry_ Squid Sister? About time!” Cordelia cocks a smile as she mimics Pearl’s movement. She’s almost there! “I’d ask you why you’re suspicious, unless I have a reason to believe there’s something _you_ _’re_ hiding?”

“Alright, _alright_.” Pearl finds Cordelia’s display amusing. “I get it. None of my business.” Pearl resumes her former pose. “Were you always this outspoken, Cordelia? I remember you being quite _reserved._ Seems you grew out of that.”

“I’m surprised you remembered me at all.” The only true statement that comes from her lips. “You were like, a legend. An inspiration.” Pearl’s expression softens. She’s won her over. _Yes!_

“Quite the flatterer, aren’t you?” Pearl smirks. “But flattery will get you places.” Her gold eyes linger on Cordelia. “How’ve things been since school? I just wanted to know if you shared my unfortunate luck.” Her laugh feels empty.

“Unfortunate? I’d say that becoming a pop sensation is quite the stroke of it. Your family doesn’t like the genre of music you perform?”

“It’s not that, It’s…” Pearl’s neck cocks to the side. “You know what, never mind.” Cordelia’s curiosity gets the better of her. Anyone else would have respected Pearl’s boundaries. Pearl’s expression loosens as her brows relax. “How do you feel about an Inkling and an Octoling… _erm_ … _being_   _together_?”

“Uh.” Cordelia could have hiccuped and it’d have sounded the same. _For the love of_ _…what kind of a question was that?!_ “I don’t know. Fine. Just fine. If you’re into them.” It takes some time before Cordelia clues in. _Oh. OH!_ "You’re talking about you and Marina…?”

“I thought it’d be obvious since we share a place together.” Pearl shakes her head before her lips erupt into a suggestive grin. “And how hot she is. Octolings are a _wonder_ in the bedroom, just letting you know.” Cordelia feels her face grow hot. Her imagination goes to the kiss that she shared with _him_. It sends tremors through her gut. If Marie didn’t knock on the glass that night—Pearl’s eying her suspiciously. She better say something.

“Oh. I-I wouldn’t know that.” A nervous laugh escapes from her throat. “I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“Something tells me that you don’t have to.” Pearl grins as her brows lower. “Speak up, girlie.”

“N-no, it’s not like that at all!” _Shit_. She needs to divert. Fast. “Oh, so how did you and Marina meet? That’s got to be an interesting tale.”  
  
Pearl looks like she's taken the bait. "Marina and I didn’t have the most romantic of meetings, but you could say that she _stole_ my heart—and don’t look so concerned—I stole _hers_ in return.” Pearl’s cheeky grin is hard to miss. Of course she’d say something like that. "When an Octoling likes you, they like to move  _fast_. I'm not kidding, they waste no time."

“What do you mean, _stole?”_ Cordelia’s in sleuth mode—she's not getting sidetracked. “Something about the way you say that doesn’t sit right.”

“To tell you the truth, I can’t say. If any octo-conspiracists found out, they’d have a heyday.”

“Octo- _whatnow?”_ Cordelia asks.

“You know, individuals who put their nose where it shouldn’t belong.” There’s no way Pearl means her and Marie …right? “Always giving Marina those strange looks. I tell myself it’s because she’s a babe. But… we both know that’s a lie. They think she’s here to cause trouble.” Cordelia can’t tell if Pearl’s just playing her, or if her feelings are genuine. She senses the latter. Cordelia _swears_ she heard Pearl mutter a ‘ _she_ _’s changed’_.

“I see… I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s not just strangers that are wary of her.” The shorter Inkling’s eyes moisten. Cordelia understands who she’s referring to.

 “Your family’s not open minded about Marina, I’m guessing.”

“They don’t like that she’s an Octoling, no. And before you ask, yes, my parents are okay that Marina’s a woman. My older sister’s going to inherit my father’s establishment, so they already have their heir-producing machine.” Pearl’s laugh makes Cordelia uncomfortable. What a bizarre choice of words to use.

Pearl’s head perks up. “Look, here comes tea now.”

Marina and Marie return. Cordelia surveys Marie briefly to see if she can read the Inkling’s expression. She can. It's not good. Cordelia hears Marie excuse herself to the washroom as Marina sits next to Cordelia, lightly placing her hand on Cordelia’s thigh.

Why?

_Just. Why?_

“How are you, sweetie? Did you and Pearlie have a nice talk?” She giggles. Cordelia jumps when she feels how warm Marina’s hand is. Were all Octolings allergic to _personal space?_ No. They didn’t know the definition of it.

“We were about to catch up on some old _Punctshoal_ memories, but you two came back so soon. Next time, maybe.” Pearl winks in Cordelia’s direction.

“Definitely.” Cordelia nods. Pearl asks Marina to give the Inkling some space and lightly scolds her for the contact, apologizing soon after. 

“Marina, how are things with you?”

“Fantastic!” Marina clasps her hands together. “We just signed on a contract for next year, but we’re taking a break for the next couple of months. Pearlie and I are going to sight-see. There are so many places I never got to visit since moving to Inkopolis.” Marina’s naive excitement throws Cordelia. There’s no way this girl could be a conspirator. Cordelia angles her neck to see what’s taking Marie so long. For her own sake, she hopes the white haired Inkling isn’t doing anything reckless.  


	4. Chapter 4

Cordelia holds her tongue until both Inklings enter the elevator. The white haired Inkling’s face holds concern. What had her conversation with Marina been like? They did take a long time to come back with the tea. When the four of them sat together, they talked about life, and current TV specials. When it came to Cordelia’s turn, she sheepishly admitted she had a lot of _date nights_ to pass the time, which Pearl, in particular, found amusing. That’s when she scored the shorter Inkling’s number, which would undoubtedly come in handy. And, maybe Cordelia could become comrades with the Idol. It would be nice to have Pearl as a friend. She was fascinating to listen to.

“How was your talk with Pearl? I see she survived your _impeccable_ wit.” Of course Marie would say that.

“Yeah, she did. Congratulations, she’s as tough as you recognized.”

Marie smirks. “And a tough one she must be.”

Cordelia ignores her remark. “Although, there’s something that bothered me about our talk. I’m not positive, but I have a hunch Pearl might know who we are.”

“And why’s that?” Marie raises a speculative brow. “What did she say?”

“I feel like Pearl was warning me to keep my nose where it belongs—out of their business.” Cordelia pauses, directly quoting the frosted tip Inkling. “She wasn’t referring to me _directly_ , but I feel it’s way too on the nose to be a coincidence.”

“What do you mean?” Marie asks.

“Pearl was suspicious of our arrival, but I think I was able to convince her that we were there to socialize. According to her, you’re not the type to plan get-togethers, which is what triggered her suspicion.”

“She’s not wrong.” Marie replies. “You think she bought it?”

“Maybe, but it’s hard to say.” Cordelia adds, “She complained that others judged Marina based on her race, but what Pearl said after that was surprising. She said that Marina’s 'changed', but it was only a mutter. I don’t think that was intended for my ears.”

“ _Really_. _”_ Marie crosses her arms after she presses the main floor elevator key. “I was going to call this trip a bust because Marina gave me nothing to go on. Your conversation with Pearl, however, leads me to believe otherwise.”

“Your face said a lot more than _it_ _’s a bust_.” It’s Cordelia’s turn to cross her arms. “What are you keeping from me?”

Marie’s tone is sharp. “Nothing.”

Cordelia knows she’s lying. But what would Marie have to gain by keeping stuff from her, especially since this was a shared investigation? One detail Cordelia reflects upon; Marie and Marina are friends. Cordelia wonders how close Marie and the idol really are? It would explain why Marie's off-put. The green haired Inkling sees Marie pull out a metallic flip phone from her pocket. It’s the private phone, intended for secretive matters.

“You do know that’s not going to work here, right?”

“I know that.” Marie isn’t amused. “I’m sending a message to Callie. On the ‘ _secure_ _’ line_.” Was that a jab at Cordelia’s lack of agent-etiquette? Or, was she being her nitpicky self… Cordelia thinks the latter. “Care to point out any other details that I have missed?" 

“I was only saying.” Her eye roll isn't lost on Marie. “You don’t want to get a signal interruption.”

“I know. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Cordelia hears a sigh echo from the white haired Inkling as the elevator slowly descends. Her previous residential inquiries become obsolete. With an elevator this slow, she’d lose her patience. Not worth the view. It should be what, forty seconds before they reach the main floor? 

Cordelia ponders over their next step. What would be their best course of action?  _Oh._ Talk to their  _hot_ Octoling prisoner. 

“The Octoling might be able to enlighten us.” Marie must have sensed the mood to give Cordelia _that_ look.

To be frank, the green haired Inkling wasn't sure if she could handle another meeting with the Octoling. As much as she was hoping they would meet again... Cordelia hated it when she flip-flopped. She does have an idea that wouldn't involve locking lips with him. Maybe Marie could help her carry it out. “Maybe we can incentive a place for him to stay, say, that isn't bound within glass.”

“I have considered it, but Callie and I don’t have the resources. He’s undocumented, and there’s no way he’s staying with us. And, given his interest in you, I don’t suggest you offer your place either.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that.” Cordelia’s stomach flutters at the thought. “If we can't find a residence for him, make the place he’s in a little more _comfortable_. I didn’t remember seeing much when I was in the stuffy room. Like, a new bed, a tv—something to make the place fun.”

“He’s got more than he deserves. However...” Marie places a finger on her chin. “Nothing like good old fashioned bribery to loosen the lips.”

“Exactly.” Cordelia feels at ease. It was better to quell her urges before they stirred once again. She hopes that it’s not too late.

“Callie’s got an eye for decorating. She can see that the place is spiffed up to his liking.” Marie concludes.

The elevator dings as the doors reveal the outside world. It’s bright out. With one finger, Cordelia lowers her shades to shield her eyes from the sun. Marie stalls behind, taking her sweet time to send Callie the message.

“You going to take all day on that thing?”

Marie ignores her comment.

“Alright then.” Cordelia follows the sidewalk, stopping five steps out. “How about I go get changed and meet you at the base? I’d like to get out of these clothes.”

“Yeah, sure. See you then.” Marie’s not paying attention. Figures…

 

Cordelia secures her Hero Gear before travelling through the grate. Still rusty… Not that she expected it to change within the day. She swims through the cavern and into Octo Canyon. Within a minute, she appears before the small shack. She sees Marie’s still in her Agent 2 outfit. She’s chatting with a red-nosed Callie. Why the heck was she here? wasn’t the black haired Inkling sick?

“Hey!” Callie waves with excitement. Congestion fills her voice. Callie grabs a tissue from her pocket and blows her nose. “Sorry about leaving you both hanging. I didn’t expect to get a cold.”

“Agent 4 and I managed, _somehow_.” Marie mutters. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Are you sure you want to put up with him?” Callie wants to touch Cordelia's shoulder but refrains from doing so. “I heard how _handsy_ he is.”

“Aren’t they all?” Cordelia rolls her eyes as a blush stains her cheeks. “It’s okay, I’m perfectly capable.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them, Callie. She’ll be safe.” Marie nods before taking a step forward. “Shall we, Agent 4?”

Cordelia nods as Callie waves goodbye. She mimics Callie’s movements before she follows Marie down the path. Within a minute, they arrive at the containment centre. From what Cordelia sees, he’s not in sight. No purple ink to be seen, either.

“I’ll be right here if you need me.” Marie speaks gently. “Know that, alright? If he tries anything funny, I’m pulling you out myself.”

Cordelia understands that Marie means well, but wouldn’t it be better if she were _not_ in sight? No. That was Cordelia’s perverted mind at work. It’s a smart move to have Marie around. Then the Elite Octoling couldn’t try anything inappropriate. No matter how desperate she wanted him to. “If you must…"

Cordelia takes a deep breath before she enters the containment centre. Nerves creep through her legs as she reverts back to her human-like form. Her eyes survey the premises. In the daylight hours, it’s a quaint space with a table and chair. Cordelia's surprised she didn’t notice it before. What she also didn’t notice was the alcove to the right. It could be a bathroom, bedroom, or a combination of the two? Cordelia doesn’t dwell on the thought. She sees the alcove door open; out steps a familiar face.

For all that was pure, the sunlight did him justice.

She notes the stray black tentacle cut in a straight vertical line. She’s never seen a hairstyle like that in Inkopolis; she has a feeling only _he_ could pull it off. She knew he must have been strong to lift her off the ground, but seeing his toned arms connected the dots. He lifted her like she weighed nothing. Cordelia didn’t notice the height of his dark leather jacket; it shows off his well-toned midriff. The thought brings her stomach to mush. His violet eyes fix on her, as his tight-lipped mouth curves into a devilish grin.

< _Agent 4_. What a sight for sore eyes. > The way he hums her moniker.

 _God_.

_Cordelia, Keep it together!_

<Hello, Octoling.> Her posture stiffens as she raises her nose.

<It’s nice to get a proper look at you.> He says, leaning against the wall. He flicks his head to the side; Cordelia recalls that strong jawline. <Did my tip offer you what you want?>

<Not _exactly_. That’s why I’m here. > Her voice breaks. This was the hard part. She takes a deep breath before asking him, <I need your help.>

<Do you? Ah.> Cordelia swears his eyes lighten to a lavender shade <And how should I be compensated for my assistance?>

Cordelia’s heart hammers against her chest. Her lips become dry. <I’ll see about better furniture for your room. A TV. You know, something to occupy your time.>

He waves a finger. <Nuh uh, we didn’t agree on that. Besides, I’m not interested in artificial merriment.> His smile widens as he motions for her to come closer. As if she were under a spell, she follows his command. His swift arm pulls her to his chest, easing his lips to meet her ear. His free hand plays with the edge of her jacket. She feels his cool fingers make contact with her skin.

He whispers, <A night with you would divulge _all_ my secrets. >

If her heart could jump to her throat, it would. “Ah!” Cordelia squeaks, covering her face with both hands. _No no no no no!_ This was bad. Her resolve was weakening.

< _Now now_ , no need to be scared. I’ll be gentle this time.> She was so unfortunately _hungry_ for this man, that his mere touch makes her want to buckle. She had to think of something.

<A-Agent 2 is watching everything you’re doing. So for my own sake, stop, _please_. > Cordelia begs between gritted teeth. Much to her surprise, _and slight disappointment_ , he releases her. She hears a slight grunt of disapproval.

<Yeah, I see her.> His tone drips with annoyance. <I don’t want her anywhere near me.> Wow, Marie must have done a number on him…

<Then play by my rules, and she’ll stay away.> Cordelia regains her control. <Which means _keep your distance_. > It sounds more like a plea than a demand. His raised brow reveals he thinks the same thing.

The Octoling follows her request, releasing her from his arms. Cordelia feels his warmth leave her body. He eases his back against the wall, adopting a serious expression. <Okay, we’ll play by your rules, _for now_. What’s your question? >

<Who was Marina _before_ she became an Idol? >

<Ah.> The Octoling leads. <For that, you’ll have to give me a piece of _intel_ in exchange. >

<I’m not going to-> Cordelia starts but he cuts her off.

<Your name.> A confident grin lines his lips. <Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you who Marina _really_ is. >

Cordelia scans the room. She notes Marie’s position on the bench before she proceeds.

<Forgive me if I seem doubtful, but you’ve been way too eager to get your hands on me. What’s to say that’s all you’ll want?>

<I have my reasons.> His brows raise as his eyes trail to the right. <Do we have a deal or not?>

<Fine.> She desperately hopes she won't regret this. <It’s Cordelia.>

His mouth gapes in surprise. She can’t read his thoughts. Not that it matters… <I told you my name. Now hold your end of the bargain.>

His attention is back on the Inkling. <Of course, _Cordelia. > _He purrs. _Ooh_ _…_ The way he annunciates, _it_ _’s delicious._ <She was an Elite, like myself. One of the best in our Combatant Training Facility. She was a force to be reckoned with. A shame she got _soft_. >

Soft enough to shack up with an Inkling, no less. Or, was that part of her plan? Warm up to Pearl and influence their music… _Why didn_ _’t she think of this before?!_

<So you’re saying Marina wasn’t always kind natured?> Figures, given that Marina was an Elite. <Because she seems innocent enough. Or, is that just an act? Her girlfriend seems to think she’s gentle and kind.>

<She has a partner?> The Octoling appears surprised. <Oh, is it that Inkling she sings with?> He grins suspiciously. <Marina’s right to keep an Inkling company. Your breed are absolutely _scrumptious_. >

A scarlet blush lines Cordelia’s cheeks. Did he realize what he was doing to her? He had to, there was no way he was that ignorant.

<How many Inklings have you tasted in _your day?_ > Cordelia blurts out, regretting it as soon as it’s heard. She should have known he said it to get a rise out of her. _Ugh._ Gratification fills his smirk.

<You. And I say,  _Cordelia_ , I _yearn_ to taste you again. >

_Yes, YES!_

<That’s not part of the arrangement, Octoling.> Cordelia stomps to the grate, ignoring what her gut’s screaming for her to do. It’s dangerous to be around him for too long.

<But, what if I shared something else with you? Would you stay?>

Cordelia’s hesitant to turn around. Against her better judgment, she does. <Don’t waste my time.>

<I’m sure you and your Agent friends would love to know where our headquarters are.>

Come on. She wasn’t dumb. <We already know it’s Cephalon HQ. I kicked Octavio’s butt myself.> And she’d do the same to him if he was going to attempt to pull the wool over her eyes.

The Octoling claps. <A very impressive feat. However, it’s not Cephalon HQ. It’s somewhere deeper, darker, and _scarier_ than your imagination could comprehend. >

<Why are you so quick to sell your intel?> Cordelia didn't understand. <Why would you want to betray your kind?>

<I’m boned if I stay, I’m boned if I go.> His vague answer isn’t getting her anywhere. <Just know I have nothing to lose either way.> Anguish laces his tone. Hmm, so the Octoling had his own story… It’d make sense, considering his disposition. Being sent to _retrieve_ an apparent ‘undercover conspirator’ in Inkopolis could easily backfire. His tone changes back to the one she’s used to.  <So, what'ya going to give me for that golden nugget?>

<If it doesn’t matter either way, just tell us what you know. Who knows, you might be free to go if you acted like a good little Octoling.> 

He frowns at her response. 

<We wouldn’t go back on our word. Just give us the info, and we’ll give you protection.>

<No.>

 _What._ <No? NO!? But it’s the best deal you could possibly get! You get to start over in Inkopolis, get a job, live a normal life.>

<Cordelia, I have a job. Besides, I don’t need the luxury. You think I’m upset living in this space? I’ve grown up in far worse conditions; we were trained to combat torture, solitude, the worst you Inklings could throw at us. This is like a vacation. Besides, why would I want to taint our _relationship_? >

<Excuse me if I don’t believe you, but you _attacked me_ last night. I’m pretty sure you’d have killed me if you didn’t find me attractive. > Wow. That's conceited, even for her.

<I was pissed. Your bitch boss packed a wallop on me. I’d have strangled a child’s neck given the chance.> His eyes glint. <Having you in my arms was much better for the blood pressure. Hearing your cute little moans->

<That’s enough!> Cordelia’s face is beet red. That cocky _irresistible_ bastard. She’d love to tell him the deal’s off, but they need him. He’s their best intel. Cordelia pinches her fingers so close together, they barely touch.  <I’m _this_ close to cutting our deal, so stop screwing around. >

He understands that she’s not kidding. <Okay, here's your _freebie_. > He lowers his brows. <I already told you that Cephalon HQ is no longer our base of operations. But, in order for you to get the kill, you have to use your artistic skill.> He makes a zipper motion over his lips.

 _What?!_ This was no time for rhymes. Not that it’d be safe to traverse through Octo Canyon at this rate, however, knowing the base’s location would be good for future reference. 

<Care to more? You know what to do.> He teases. <You won’t regret it.>

<You know what, fine. Do your worst.> Cordelia clasps a hand over her mouth. For all that was good and pure, why did she have to go and say an utterly stupid thing like that? Despite the embarrassment she feels, her imagination and gut are in cahoots with each other.

The Octoling’s grin is broad and wide, as his eyes look down upon her. <As tempting as that is, I don’t want to ruin my appetite by stuffing myself. I’d prefer to go _slow._ You could start by unzipping your jacket, instead of having it all the way up to your neck.>

<If you think I’m stripping, you’re sorely mistaken, _Octoling_. > She raises her hand as if she were to slap him silly. She ought to, with a request like that.

<What happened to _do your worst_? > He smirks. <I meant unzip it, not take it off.> He re-invites himself in her personal space and hooks his long, lean finger onto the hole of her zipper. The fabric parts with ease. Cordelia gasps instinctively as her eyes fix on his hands. She feels his hot stare on her exposed stomach; the Hero Top didn’t leave much to the imagination. Her throat is parched. She can’t bear to look at him. If she does, she’ll have to demand him to stop.

He opens his mouth. <There, much better.>

Her head screamed: _So much is wrong with this! Marie is going to kill him! I_ _’m going to kill him!_

Her gut begged: _Hold me in your strong arms and ravish my mouth again!_

Cordelia musters the courage to look up. Only now does she feel the cool air against her waist. The Octoling meets her gaze. His eyes are warm, inviting. Her lips barely part as she feels her body waver. _C_ _’mon Cordelia, Marie is right there!_ She wasn’t about to become an exhibitionist. Her fingers tremble in place.  
  
<What are you afraid of?> The Octoling’s voice is warm.

<Nothing.>

<Then what are you waiting for?> His inviting words encourage Cordelia to do the unthinkable.

Cordelia’s snap decision is one she will come to regret. Her body takes initiative as her arms wrap around the Octoling, pulling his mouth toward hers. Why did something so _wrong_ have to feel so _good_? His tongue affectionately strokes Cordelia’s; her groan now stifled by his mouth. She gasps as her body’s jolted back by an unseen force; her stare meets angry gold eyes.

Marie’s finger points directly in front of the Octoling’s face, as he frowns heavily, unappreciative of the interruption. To be completely honest, so was she.

“Zip up your jacket for goodness sake.” Marie throws a look of disgust her way. What the heck was that for? “And follow me.” Her voice chills Cordelia’s ears. What had _she_ done to piss Marie off?

 

“May you kindly explain to me what I just saw?” The two are confined in Marie’s shack. Callie’s nowhere to be seen. Cordelia’s got a dreadful feeling that she was sent home, and not to wait up. "If I didn't intervene—" 

"For hell's sake Marie, I thought you understood the plan!" Cordelia flushes hotly. 

“What I _understood_ was you two were to exchange a kiss, not a full-on strip show.” Marie could have flailed her arms in a tizzy, but she’s too dignified for that. Instead, she glowers. “I think we need a plan that keeps your clothes on.”

“We already had one.” Cordelia mutters. “Until you dragged me out of there. If you keep interfering, he may decide he doesn’t find our exchange worth it, or even worse, feed us false information.” Cordelia sighs. “I get you have your issues with it, but what other choice do we _have?_ ”

Marie cocks a brow as her arms fold tight against her chest. Marie isn’t pleased. “So enlighten me. What was the golden nugget that encouraged you to bare it all?”

Cordelia doesn’t appreciate her tone, however, she decides to proceed. “Their base location is no longer in Cephalon HQ.” Marie’s expression flattens “He was going to tell me more, but we all know how that story ends.”

“I’ll make a note of it.” Marie briefly switches gears and scribbles the information on a nearby sheet of paper. After she places the pen down, the white haired Inkling keeps to herself. Both girls are silent. Minutes pass before Marie attempts to bridge the gap.

“Cordelia, I...I owe you an explanation. After what the Octarians did to Callie, I just, _ugh_ , I can’t trust them. And seeing you so _intimate_ with the enemy like that—it was hard to watch. Even if you’re doing it for all the right reasons.” The white haired Inkling’s fists visibly shake. “I know we go off to a terrible start. But, believe it or not, your safety is a concern of mine.” Marie’s out of her element. Cordelia understands, she’d feel the same way. “I know you can handle yourself, but…”

“Hey.” Cordelia forces a smile. “Don’t get all mushy on me now.”

“I’m not. I’m being honest.” The white haired Inkling shrugs. She lowers her gaze to the floor before she asks her next question. “I’d offer to leave the two of you alone, but what if he takes it too far?”

That’s a good point. Was he only on his best behaviour because Marie was there? Or, was Cordelia making excuses, afraid that _she_ _’d_ be the one to overstep boundaries? All he had to do was _look_ at her before her innards turned to mush. Cordelia feels ashamed of herself. Should she tell Marie the truth? No. Marie wouldn’t understand. This was Cordelia’s problem. She would deal with it.

One way, or another.   

“If you haven’t noticed, Octolings aren’t familiar with the term _personal space_.” No word of a lie. Marina was proof of that.

“I gathered, but…” Marie seems nervous to ask. “I figured you to be the type to be _reserved_ to, well, people of _status_.”

“I am.” Cordelia scoffs. “Is he not an Elite?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Marie gives a knowing stare.

Cordelia rolls her eyes. “But if you’re asking, yes. I think he’s easy on the eyes.”  _Shit!_ What happened to keeping that a secret? “You think I’d allow him to touch me if he was one of those deformed Octarians? You’ve got your head screwed on backwards if you think that’s the case.”

“But an _Octoling_ , really?” Marie raises a brow. “After everything that’s happened, I thought you’d be shy of them.” Her face reveals what she’s about to say next isn’t going to be easy. “Marina… I _want_ to believe that she’s good. I do. But after what happened to Callie—and this might be unfair—but I can’t help but be wary around her. The fact that you’re not just _surprises_ me.”

Well, that’d explain what she witnessed on Marie’s face back on the elevator. Guilt. Cordelia chooses to say nothing. Even after all she’s went through in Octo Canyon, she can’t say she harbours any hatred for them. Octarians, perhaps. But when she was Agent 4, she had to disassociate herself from what she was doing. If she was Cordelia instead, she wouldn’t have made it past Tentakeel Outpost.

“I wish I was able to tell the good Octarians from the bad ones. But…” She can tell her thoughts go back to Callie. Cordelia doesn’t want to press. “...you know what, forget about it. You’ve done your duty amicably, Agent 4. Thank you.”

Cordelia offers a sincere grin. “You’re welcome.”

“You should head back.” Marie’s suggestion wasn’t a strange one. She was more than right to send Cordelia home. “We’ve both had quite the day.”

“I’m not done yet.” Cordelia rubs her hands as she explains. “I have some business to take care of if you’ll let me.”

Marie withholds from speaking her mind. She replies, “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” Cordelia does her best to quell her nerves as she leaves the shack. The sun shines directly over her as she walks in the direction of the containment centre. She’s going to deal with the Octoling.  
  
_Her way_.


	5. Chapter 5

The green haired Inkling grunts to herself as she walks down the sandy path. She had no idea what she was going to do. All she knew is that this Octoling would give her what she wanted, one way or another. But that was one of the several reasons that she impulsively acted on the idea. Ignoring the fact her gut danced in elation the minute she saw him, there was a purpose for visiting the prisoner. His Intel proved he was worth his breath.

Marie’s warning appeared in her thoughts, _What if he takes it too far?_ Cordelia instinctively holds her breath; a wave of excitement erupts from her chest. Cordelia wasn’t a demure flower. She’s had many nights accompanied by handsome men, much to her family’s displeasure. They wanted a proper, virtuous daughter. Cordelia sadly was neither of those things. The pleasures of the flesh were much too great.

That’s right. Cordelia notes none of those _handsome_ men affected her the way this Octoling did. What made him so different? Cordelia freezes as an old memory surfaces. The last time she felt a pang even remotely close to this; a strikingly handsome fellow named Westley Fiske who hailed across the Great Ocean, but he was a puppet master. His family was hoping for a swift engagement when she came of age to steady the reputation of their name, a natural conclusion for a political family. Cordelia found out soon after that her parents approved of the arrangement.

They would have never approved of any man she’d have picked for herself.

She debated the engagement, but found out her _match_ had other plans—with an Urchin girl who had claimed to be his friend. She stiffed the engagement and made headlines in the gossip mills; calling her fickle and ungracious. Her family sent her away as punishment; away from the comforts of her family home to Flounder Heights. She hated it at first. But now, it was a place she called home. As her memory comes to a close, Cordelia frowns. The last time she felt an attraction like this, she almost lost her title. She probably would have, if she weren’t the only child and heir. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t date ill-fitting men for the purpose of disgracing her family, just like they disgraced her.

If she had a sibling, maybe, things would have been different for her... 

Cordelia wipes a stray tear from her eye and decides; _That_ _’s enough of that_.

Cordelia beelines for the containment centre. Now that her thoughts were clear of the past, she can execute her plan. She’s sick of doubting herself. Her purpose is to weed information out of the enemy, not let the enemy seduce her. No. She was going to turn the tables on this Elite so fast his head would spin. No more screwing around. She’s going to get what she wants. Not for Marie, or even Inkopolis. For her own satisfaction.

Her steps halt at the centre’s grate. Cordelia takes a deep breath. No matter what he said (or did), she’d remain strong. She was Agent 4 for the love all things pure! He was only one man; it was pathetic how his advances left her breathless. Whatever he tries, she’ll throw back at him—tenfold. She single-handedly defeated the worst Octo Canyon had to offer. One Elite Octoling couldn’t stand a chance.

In through the grate, and out into hell’s furnace. Cordelia wasn’t expecting the Octoling to be leaning against the wall. Had she been so absorbed in her mind that she neglected to notice his presence? Her steel blue eyes lock on his purple ones. He addresses her with that signature grin of his.

< _Cordelia_. > He purrs. She resists the urge to melt. This was _not_ good. 

<Octoling.> She crosses her arms. Now’s not time to get snippy. <I apologize for Agent 2’s behaviour> Which, was entirely justified. Cordelia withholds a sigh. <Agent 2 promises she’ll leave all further communication to me.>

The Octoling lifts himself from the wall, uncrossing his arms slowly. <About _damn_ time. > Oh _no_. She can hear him salivating. He approaches her with open arms.  <Now, where were we?>

<Not so fast.> Cordelia puts her hand up. He was _not_ going to distract her. Now was the time to fish for information. The bases' whereabouts could wait. Marina was the pressing issue, and the frosted tip Octoling was a basket of question marks. He had to know more than he was letting on.  <I need to ask you about Marina.>

<Again?> It’s his turn to cross his arms. <I told you all that I know.>

< _Really_. > She unzips her jacket, stopping midway; her eyes meet his gaze, and _oh_ , he notices. Cordelia gulps. She can do this. <Something tells me that if I offer more than my lips, you’d spill.>

<What?> His surprise comes as a shock. She was expecting an immediate comply. <I’m more than ready to take you up on that offer, but I have nothing to give in return. I told you everything I know about her.>

Then why is she sensing otherwise? Would the Octoling purposely withhold that information, even after what she was willing to do?

<Are you _sure?_ >

<Yes, and I’m not going to lie to you.> Each footstep she hears brings him closer to her. She imagines him scooping her up in his arms, _that delicious tongue of his massaging the insides of her mouth…_

_Stop it, Cordelia..._

He halts himself mid-walk, much to Cordelia’s confusion. <Leading you on would not benefit either of us. You might decide I’m not trustworthy. Then, you’d stop paying me these little visits.> His voice lowers to a gentle whisper. <If you were willing to help me _remember_ , that could be arranged.>

So, he _was_ holding back. _Bastard._ Was he purposely jilting her because he sensed what she was doing? The longer she stands in here, the more she’s willing to comply with his rules. Cordelia notices the twitch in his lips as he hovers in place. He’s on his best behaviour; not what she was expecting with Marie’s absence. Cordelia was ready to negotiate.

<If I _help_ you remember, can I have your word that you’ll tell me _exactly_ what I want to know?> Even now, his face sports that cocky grin. <If not, I can easily take my business elsewhere.> No, she really couldn't. Cordelia had to learn when to keep her mouth closed. 

<No you won’t. I’m the only lead you have.> His eyebrows raise as his smile grows wider. <And this lead only wants one thing.>

The way he phrased his words—he has to know how enticing he’s being. Who was she to think she could outsmart this exquisite seducer—no, that’s loser’s talk. She knew what she was signing up for the minute she stepped foot in this room. She doesn’t ignore his impending footsteps.

<Octoling,> Her breaths quicken as he doesn’t meet her gaze, instead, it lingers on her frame. His face is expressionless, but the curve in his mouth suggests he’s had enough of her stalling. No, she had to think. And fast! <I demand that you—>

It’s a damn good thing that Cordelia wasn’t a betting woman. He scoops her in his arms and thrusts his mouth onto hers. This time feels different. She knows there’s no Marie to hold her back. A dangerous thought, especially with this man’s savory tongue exploring the opening of her lips. She feels his satisfying laugh as he whisks her to the alcove, refusing to leave her lips as he opens the door open with one hand. He eases her onto his bed (she’d later reflect on how soft and spongy it was) as he breaks away momentarily.

<Are you sure you’re alone? I swear, if that woman tears you away from me…>

She can’t wipe the dopey grin off her face. <I told you, she’s not here.>

He says nothing as he looms over her. His broad shoulders shadow her frame from the sunlight as his stray hand makes its way to the zipper. Her body twinges as he pulls the zipper down; her ears tickle at the sound. He takes his time scanning every inch of her. She doesn’t mind a bit. His hand makes its way past the rubber band of her shorts—he doesn’t move it further. He must sense that she doesn’t approve. She wants him to. _No._ Want wasn’t a strong enough word. She can’t give in that fast, no matter how bad she wants to. His finger traces from her waist to her chest, hooking it on the strap of her tank top. Gently, he pulls her strap past her shoulder. Her jacket is in the way. Cordelia _was_ considering it, however, she’ll take the interruption as a sign.

He eases himself over her; Cordelia trembles as she feels his breath in her ear; elation fills her gut as he sinks his mouth into the base of her neck. A gasp surfaces as she squirms in place. He doesn’t let her move. The calm, confident persona Cordelia portrayed before leaves her being as the texture of his tongue pleases her skin.

She struggles to take her jacket off, but his guiding hand helps her. She sees he too is flushed, but the smile never leaves his face. He knows he’s won her over. Damn _hot_ bastard. She hears the jacket fall to the concrete floor; her arms now bare. She doesn’t notice the ugly shade of red her naturally pale complexion becomes. Thankfully.

She sees the Octoling eyeing the strap again. She flinches a bit when he loops his finger around the black fabric, but doesn't protest as she can feel it slide down her arm. He stops. If he pulled the fabric any lower, she’d have been exposed. It’s nice to see even he has a little bit of reservation. Her gut trembles as his lips hover over her freshly exposed skin.

<This is as far as I’ll go, you have my word.>

He’s traipsing the line. She wants to encourage him. Go further, screw the politics. Show her what he can _really_ do. But she doesn’t. Instead, she lets out a breathless _< Okay.>_

Her fingers reel in his sheets as she feels him nibble her neck. Her breaths quicken as her cheeks burn with anticipation. Shivers encompass her being as his lips trail to her waistband. His eyes curiously meet hers as he raises his head.

<I think I remember something about our Marina…>

_WHAT._

He wants to talk _now?!_ She musters the courage not to choke him. However, she recollects whatever resolve she can muster. _Ugh_. She should have known he’d exert some influence. She’s not going to ask _why_ he’s being a spoilsport. <You don’t say?>

<Marina’s a gear-head, she’s always loved to tinker with machinery.> Cordelia surveys his mouth to see if he’s lying. Even though she’s known him a day, he’s easy to read. She attempts to sit up; his firm hand stops her.

<I’m not done with you.> His words thrill her to the core. _Thank the heavens!_ No. wait. Cordelia goes to speak, but his state entrances her to keep her mouth closed. He’s devouring her with his eyes.

<Marina used to modify radios to enhance our communication. I was told to bring Marina back to Octo Canyon. I wasn’t told why, but I think it has something to do with that.>

<Oh.> Is all Cordelia can muster. It's a great tidbit,  _integral,_ even. In this moment, she doesn’t care what he tells her. His gaze falls on her lips, then to her chest. She’s acutely aware of where he's staring; she doesn’t mind one bit. She relaxes as she’s ready for him to kiss her again. When he doesn’t, it comes as a surprise.

<I don’t know anything else about her.> The Octoling frowns. So does she.

<I see…> Cordelia gasps when the Octoling scoops her from his bed. He eases her onto her feet. Well, that could have gone better. She got the information she wanted, but… Cordelia wants to sigh, admit her resignation, but she withholds from doing so.

<I guess that means you’ll be taking your leave.> He reviews her expression. <Since you got what you came for.>

Cordelia emits a weak, <Yeah… I did.>

Cordelia fluffs her bun. It was more than likely askew from their tousle. If she were in his shoes… she wouldn’t let him leave so easily. She takes slow, careful steps to the door. She didn’t even hear the door close; she was enveloped in the Octoling's embrace. 

Her hand trembles on the door handle. Was he really going to let her leave? Cordelia snaps at herself to focus. She needs to follow up with the lead. Text Pearl, get _some_ information about Marina. Then, she’d go back to Marie with the Intel and they’d start a proper investigation. She’d tell Marie their plan had worked, and Marie would stop questioning her methods. Even though she did have a right to, Cordelia’s recent agent-interrogation methods were undoubtedly questionable. It’s Marie’s fault for capturing a _hot as hell_ captive. Yep. That’s what Cordelia was going with. It’s Marie’s fault. Okay, now would be the best time to go, while she still can. She grabs the door handle. It’s cool to the touch. Her hand trembles as she attempts to turn it.

Oh _no_. 

_Dammit woman, come on._

_Turn the handle!_

_Why isn'_ _t she turning the bloody door handle?!_

She swallows. Hard. Her body’s pulsing. Her desire to stay put is astounding. This is what happens when you let the heart lead. Cordelia jumps as she feels his strong arms wrap around her waist. He turns her around. Her breathing shortens as she meets his eyes, his violet stare lingers on her lips. What was he doing? No. What was _she_ doing?

<You have five seconds to leave.> His tone demands as his eyes settle on hers. He starts to count.

She interrupts him at _three_.  <And if I don’t?> Her voice is barely a whisper.

<You know what I’ll do.>

Cordelia’s disposition quivers from his answer. She does know what he’ll do, and _oh_ , she’s _starved_. 

Cordelia can’t believe she’s doing this, but she whispers, <Then do it.>

The Octoling scoops her up as he pulls herself feverishly towards his mouth. He swiftly guides her to his bed once again. She groans as she lets his tongue in, her body pulses at his touch. She hears him unzip his jacket. Her eyes sparkle when they set on his finely sculpted figure. Her body’s lit aflame as his chiseled frame tops her, his hands wander to her waistband. She allows him to glide her shorts to her feet as she kicks them off, allowing only her underwear to remain. His long, lean finger slips past the fabric, making its way to her sweet spot; she tenses in approval. Her smile grows wide as her brows relax. Waves of satisfaction fill her being as he plays with her, as another stray finger gently slips inside her. She reels as he fingers work his magic.

Cordelia gasps, <H-How?>

<Ssh.> He speaks softly as he revels in her approval.

Soft breaths escape her lips as she closes her eyes. Suddenly, he stops, as he examines her dark lace underwear.

<May I rid you of these?>

She nods, giving her blessing. The silk fabric glides down her smooth leg as the Octoling takes it upon himself to fling them to the ground.

<Judging by the quality of your… shall I say undergarments, I should have figured you were high bred.>

<S-shut up.> She pants, forcing his hand back in between her legs. <Keep going.>

A deep laugh rolls from his throat as he complies with her order. His fingers glide upwards as Cordelia hitches. 

 _It's. So. Hot._  

Her whimpers are not lost on her Octoling companion. Her eyes are closed; she doesn’t see the gratification on his face. _How does he know to stroke her there_? Her breaths quicken as the tremors grow stronger. The Inkling feels tense, as her back arches.

<I-I!> She doesn’t finish before the room echoes with the sound of her satisfaction. Cordelia’s eyes glaze in gratification as she breathes sweet relief. Her mouth is captured by the man with the long, wondrous fingers.

<I told you I was good.> He whispers on her lips. He strokes her leg before he says, <Now let’s see how good you are.> She nods, albeit breathless from their previous encounter. 

Excitement fills her gut as he pulls her legs forward. She hears the sound of his pants unzip. A pleasing sensation makes it up her legs as he readies himself for her. She can’t look, or she may find her logic may step in and prevent it. She feels her hips raise as her legs rest against him. With one stroke of his hips, he settles himself into her.

A moan surfaces as he arches his head up; his jawline in plain sight. He struggles to keep himself composed; a pleasing switch to witness. She’d tease him, but his rhythmic thrusts keep her from interfering. His hands cling to her waist as he bites his lip. God, if Pearl was right about one thing… Her thoughts break, her core sensitive from her previous release. His arousal knows where to glide, hitch, stop. She clasps his sheets as he bends down to explore her mouth. He clutches her with both hands as their lips devour each other. His long tongue savours her own. She feels herself moisten against his skin as she clings to him. His movements become quick and sudden as he tenses; she takes in his warm release. Sweat drips from his face, gliding down his neck as his eyes sparkle in satisfaction.

He’s unable to speak. To be fair, neither can she. The pair hold position and savour the experience.

She’s never had a partner _this_ good.

He flops next to her, breathing deeply as he turns his body to face her. Cordelia can’t help but allow her eyes to linger on his broad frame. Gently, he turns her head to face him. <I can’t believe you let me … _god_ , Cordelia. I’ve never com->

It was her turn to interrupt. <Don't ruin this.> Her smile gives away that she too hadn’t been disappointed. His other arm grabs her rear as he pulls her close to him. He looks at her top as a frown shapes his lips.

<Next time, I’d like _that_ gone. >

<Next time?> She balks out loud. However, her inner self pleads for a time just like this one. <You _assume_ there’s going to be a next time?! In your dreams, Octoling.>

<Please. Don’t insult me by making me believe you didn’t enjoy yourself. Your cute little moans say otherwise.> Cordelia’s cheeks burn. _Why did he have to say it like that?!_ <And I think it’s about time you learned my name, as much as I love hearing you utter _Octoling._ >

<Fine.> Cordelia would cross her arms if she wasn’t laying on her side. <Since you’re set on telling me.>

< _Radjerd._ > _Oh_. His accent lingers on the pronunciation. Of course he had to have a name like that. Her eyes begin to feel heavy as he whispers,  <Remember it well, _My Cordelia_. > 

 

“Cordelia. Cordelia!” The green haired Inkling turns in her sleep, wearily batting her arm. “Cordelia! Wake up, _now!_ ”

“Uuunng.” The only sound Cordelia makes as she stirs, the bridge between sleep and wakefulness almost cross. It takes her a second, but her eyes pop open when she recognizes the voice. A pair of familiar gold eyes lingers on her position. Panic settles in as Cordelia scans her surroundings.

_Oh, god no!_

“Marie?!” Cordelia squeaks. She looks down, _relieved_ that the blanket was covering her waist. She’d thank the powers that be that she was wearing her top. “W-why are you here?! I thought you said you’d leave this to me!”

“Because that worked out _so_ well.” Marie’s eyes roll as a grumble escapes her lips. A deep blush stains the white haired Inkling’s cheeks. Cordelia’s do too when she realizes the contents of her clothes are littered on the floor, in plain sight for Marie to see. She covers her face with the blanket and groans.

Marie adds, “It seems while you were asleep, the Octoling saw it as a chance to escape.”

“Escape?!” She whips her head to the door, then to the window. It was dark outside. Oh _no,_ how long had she been out for? “Didn’t you say the grate was Octarian proof?”

“I thought the same thing, but I guess I was wrong.” Marie frowns. “I’ll give you a moment to make yourself decent. Don’t take too long.” She can hear the disapproval of Marie’s voice as she leaves the room.

Cordelia flips the sheets in frustration as she grabs her underwear and shorts, quickly slipping them on. She throws on the jacket and picks up one of the fallen pillows, throwing it onto the bed in annoyance. How dare he walk out on her; that was her job! She grumbles as she loops her tentacles into her signature bun. She slams the door behind her and is taken aback to see the grate disassembled. How in …no, she’s not even going there. Were all Octolings bloody gear-heads?

Thankfully, it’s too dark to see Marie’s face, however, she can see the outline of her silhouette near the outside lamp. Cordelia’s too embarrassed to face Marie. She attempts to sneak past the white haired Inkling. It doesn’t work.

“Did he say anything to you that sounded suspicious?” Marie questions as Cordelia freezes in place. “Or where he’d go if he had the chance to escape, things like that?”

“No.” She plainly says.  Her cheeks are hot with anger.  How stupid she was for allowing herself to be lead on like that, _leading_ her to believe he wanted their arrangement to continue. When instead, he was planning to  _distract_ her so he could escape. “He said nothing of that sort.”

“So he used you.” Marie states flatly.

She didn’t need to be so blunt… “For what it’s worth, he told me Marina was efficient in machinery, that she had the capability to modify radio waves.” Cordelia says while holding her arms close. Her eyes moisten. Thankfully Marie can’t see her face.

“How about you go home for the night? We’ll worry about this tomorrow.” She can hear the shift in Marie’s voice; it’s kinder than before. Cordelia can’t handle her pity.

“Okay...” Cordelia speed walks to the entrance of Octo Canyon’s grate and swims through the cavern. She hops into Inkopolis Square, noticing the increasing amount of Inklings around. It’s late, but the square is full of residents. Was there an event going on? She's familiar with Splatfests, but none were going on at present. Maybe it was some turf war event. Whatever. She didn’t care.

Cordelia pulls out her phone and checks the time. The cab should still be in their parking space. To her luck, one was. She waves as the cab driver rolls down her window. 

“Please take me to _Shellfish Suites, Flounder Heights._ Cordelia says to the crustacean manning the taxi. She waits until Cordelia opens the back door and steps in. The engine purrs as the cab drives off in the direction of home. After Cordelia buckles herself in, the cab driver addresses her. 

“Had a rough match?” The crustacean asks, looking in her rear view mirror. Cordelia can see the woman’s eyes survey her face, even if it was for a bit. “I know what that’s like, sweetie. Used to play turf back in the day. It feels like a millennia ago.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Bad match.” Cordelia fakes a smile. If the woman wants to pin her as a turf player, who is she to argue with that? “You know, damn kids showing you up in your own game. Super frustrating.” Well, that sounds precocious. Improvising was not one of Cordelia’s strong suits.

“What weapon do you use? I used to main the Gold Dynamo Roller, kept the arms in tip-top shape.” Her laugh echoes through the cab as she flexes one of her free arms.

If Cordelia did participate in Turf War, there was only one weapon she could use in good faith. “Hero Shot Replica.”

The cab driver whistles. She’s way too into this conversation.

“Wow, the replicas are a pain in the butt to get. You must have some skill if you’ve scored one of those. Not that I know for sure, but I hear that those are reserved for  _special players_ , like agents." 

“I can't imagine that agents would have time to play a silly game of turf—erm—I mean if you were an agent, you'd probably see Turf War as a silly game." Cordelia watches to see if she can gauge the cab driver's expression in the rear-view mirror. It doesn't change. "Not that I see Turf War as silly, of course. Since I play it and all." 

"Spoken like a true agent." The cab driver laughs. "I'm kidding of course." 

Good. Because Cordelia was about to have a heart attack.  “If I were one of those agents, I’d be a poor one.” She says it to shift the conversation, but she legit means it. Cordelia can feel her eyes moisten again…

Dammit.

Cordelia notices the cab driver doesn't answer her. Anyone who could see her face would understand to leave her alone. The green haired Inkling wasn’t the best at hiding her emotions. Not that it matters, she should be home in the next twenty minutes.

It would prove to be the longest twenty minutes of her life.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning sun stirs the sleeping Cordelia Firthe (as she’s unceremoniously sprawled on her bed). Wakefulness comes as a mallet to the head for the previously sleeping Inkling. Her arms appear restricted; she forgot to change out of her clothes. Memories from the day before flood to the forefront of her mind. Pearl’s strange behaviour, Marina’s presumed innocence, and— _ugh—_ her failed attempt at keeping their prisoner just that—their prisoner. Her gut flutters at the reminder. He might have been good—okay, good was putting it lightly—but that didn’t matter. Cordelia finds herself salivating at the memory.

 _Cordelia. Come on, you_ _’re not that starved for attention. Yes, he had abs that practically sparkled. Yes, his technique was inconceivably satisfying._ The thought of his touch sent shivers down her body. It’s like her thoughts wanted to ignore that he was an escapee, a _prisoner_. Maybe, at that moment, she wanted to forget.

 _No. That_ _’s enough!_

Cordelia shakes her head, hoping she could knock some sense into it as she stomps out of bed, grabbing a white satin housecoat folded neatly on her chair. She decides cleansing herself of yesterday’s mistakes is the best course of action.

Cordelia steps into the shower, allowing the warm liquid to cleanse her weary frame. She decides to turn on her shower radio. An ad for _Firthe_ _’s Fortified Ink &Tanks_ blares through her ears. There it was, the glory of her riches. Containing Ink Proof Containers that Inklings use in Turf Wars. That was her family’s legacy, and one day, would be hers to inherit. Fate did have a wicked sense of humour. She turns the knob, switching to a different station. It’s a solo number, _Shellfie_ by _The Chirpy Chips_. It’s not her favourite, yet a good song nonetheless. Cordelia lets the tune fill her head as she finishes.

Cordelia steps out of the foggy shower, admittingly feeling better than before. She squeezes the tube of her toothpaste a bit too tight; the contents spill onto her toothbrush in a blob. She frowns but chooses to adapt. Soon after, she dries herself off with one of the towels that hung near the sink. She slips on her robe and heads to the kitchen; a nice cup of coffee should cheer her up.

Cordelia turns on the kitchen radio to free her from her thoughts. After all, it worked in the shower. She approaches her coffee machine with an inquisitive hum. Shall it be _Breakfast Blend_ or _Wake-Me-Up Peppermint_?

She presses the Breakfast Blend. She’d need the caffeine if she was to deal with Marie. That was the last thing she wanted to do. The way Marie looked at her… The reason she cried her eyes out last night. She made a fool of herself, and let a potential suspect loose. Being an Agent was the one good thing Cordelia did for others, and more importantly, herself. She sighs. Another memory she wished to suppress.

Her radio does the intended job. _“Foul Play reported in League—Rainmaker stolen!”_

Cordelia’s ears perk up. Is that why the square was full of Inklings last night? She had noticed the increased amount of bodies, but their distress at the time would have been lost on her. Her fingers curl into a fist. How could she miss something so obvious? She makes a promise to herself; if she _ever_ saw that Octoling again, he’d be begging for mercy. 

_No matter how good he was in bed._

Speaking of that _hot_ bastard, he wouldn’t have had anything to do with the Rainmaker’s disappearance, would he? She didn’t have much time to think about it before her phone rang. The high pitched ringtone echoed throughout the hall; Cordelia scurries to her bedroom as a result. Her phone’s buried under her sheets, as she finally grasps it. She swipes Answer before looking at the Caller ID. It’s early for Marie to be calling, but if this was a potential lead, she’d be in contact right away.

“Marie, look, I’m sorry about last night—”

“Cordelia? It’s Pearl.” Cordelia’s stomach drops. _Thank the Heavens_ that she got interrupted, or Pearl may have discovered more about her than she was willing to let on. Hold on… _Why_ was Pearl on the other line?

“Hi Pearl, _uh_ , what can I do for you?” Cordelia can't hide the confusion in her voice. 

“I didn’t want to wake you up, but I can’t wait any longer.” The Inkling’s voice is laced with upset. “It’s Marina. She…”

Cordelia feels her gut turn. This couldn’t be good. “She _what?”_

“She’s gone. She left a note, but… I’m just… I don’t know what to do.”

“And what can I do?” Cordelia doesn’t mean to sound rude. “I mean, why not go to the police?”

“You and I both know _why_ I can't do that.” She can hear Pearl’s uneasiness. “I know who you are, _Agent 4_.”

Cordelia’s suspicions were right, but that doesn’t make it easy to hear. Pearl knew this whole time… _dammit._

“Is there a place where I can meet you? I don’t want to talk over the phone.” Pearl says with a sense of urgency. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary.”

“Come to my place, the door’s open. I live at _Shellfish Suites, Flounder Heights-_ _”_

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been there before, a friend lives in that same building.” Pearl pauses before she speaks again—this time, her voice softens. “Thanks, Cordelia. I mean it.” Pearl hangs up.

Cordelia presses two fingers in the middle of her brow. Now she has two missing Octolings on her plate. She better call Marie.

Cordelia hesitates as she sees the name _Agent B*tch_ on her contacts list. Right. Marie would appreciate her using her _secure line_ for this conversation. Cordelia rummages through one of her ivory bedroom drawers. It should be in here, _somewhere_. She looks under a heap of magazines.

_There it is!_

It’s an ugly outdated grey flip phone— _how archaic._ She flips it open. To her surprise, the battery’s half full. The amount of missed messages and texts from Marie is unbelievable. She finds Marie’s contact information and calls her, despite her sudden nausea. She’s not used to being nervous.

“Hello…?” A dreary voice picks up.”

“Marie, this is Cordelia.”

“Oh.” There’s a yawn before she continues. “I’m surprised that you using the line.” She can hear that damn smirk of hers through the phone. “I assume it’s important for you to call at this hour.”

“Did you hear the news?” Cordelia knows that’s a stupid question. Of course Marie did.

“Who do you think was up late night attempting to piece it all together?” The white haired Inkling sounds proud of herself.

“Have any leads?”

"I’d love to say it was that Elite, but I don’t think that’s possible. I found the unhinged grate a couple of hours before the Rainmaker was reported missing.”

“A couple of hours after you found the tampered grate? He could have escaped through the main grate when you went looking for him.”

Marie says bluntly. “I don’t think so. I’d like to peg him too, but we have no proof, at least _not yet_. I entered the containment centre as soon as I saw the grate to investigate, however, all I found was you. When you left, I found a letter. It’s written in Octarian—you should be able to read it, right?”

Did he leave a letter? _Oh for the love of it all!_ “My Octarian penmanship is shotty at best. Speaking of…” Cordelia clears her throat. “Pearl called me this morning.”

“Why?” Marie sounds alert. “What reason would she have for phoning you at this hour?”

“It’s to do with Marina. She disappeared this morning, also leaving a note.” Cordelia finds the coincidence unnerving—it’s too similar for her liking. “She’s coming to my place to talk. If you’d like, you’re welcome to join us. If you bring that note you found, she might be able to translate it.”

“It may be beneficial if I do.” She can hear the uncertainty in her voice. Cordelia can sense that Marie doesn’t want to. That was fair. Marina was her friend. “But why phone you?”

“She knows who we are.” Cordelia sighs. “You’d be surprised what money can help you accomplish.”

“A lot, I’d say.” Marie sighs. “I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

“See you soon.” Cordelia hangs up the phone and places it back in her drawer.

Cordelia walks to her closet and picks up a pastel yellow and white sundress, with white tights to match. She ties her tentacles in a bun. Making one last trip at the mirror, she applies her favourite lined mascara. She had to look confident and sure of herself. There was no room for self-pity. 

She takes one last look in the mirror. Perfection.

 

Never had Cordelia imagined that she’d see both Marie and Pearl in her living room. Pearl’s dressed similarly to the day before, wearing a yellow knitted sweater instead of a pastel one. Marie is dressed in a striped blue tee and slim fitting jeans. Her tentacles are pulled back in a braid—it was a nice look for her. Both girls remain silent. Were they waiting for Cordelia to speak? She was never a good entertainer and had failed her party hostess classes back in the day. What happened to being _confident?_

Thankfully, Pearl breaks the ice.

“I’m not sure where to begin.” Pearl’s gold eyes stray to the side as her brows furrow.

“Start from the beginning.” Marie folds her arms as she leans back on the couch.

Pearl clenches her teeth. She looks like she’s going to throw up.

“Pearl, you have to tell us everything you know.” Marie’s tone is gentle. “No matter how incriminating it might be for Marina.”

“I promise you, she’s changed.” Pearl’s voice is shaky. “She’s not like that anymore.”

“Like what?"

Pearl looks away as she clenches her sweater. “She used to be an Elite.” Pearl’s face speaks of betrayal. Poor thing. “She ... _you_ _’re really going to make me say it?”_

“We won’t hurt Marina, trust us.” Cordelia finally speaks. “But Marie’s right, you have to tell us all you know. It’s the only way we can help.”

Pearl takes a deep breath before folding her hands together. “Marina ...kidnapped me.” Cordelia and Marie exchange confused glances. “She was going to use me for some _experiment_ , but had a change of heart after your concert. She decided she was going to break me out, and bring me home to Inkopolis. Along the way, we ...uh, kind of fell in love.”

Marina _kidnapped_ Pearl? How did she manage that? What kind of experiment was Pearl going to be used for? Cordelia wanted to ask, but she bit her tongue. Now was not the time.

Pearl continues, “She encouraged me to follow my passion, and, you know the rest.” The frosted tip Inkling appears anxious. “She hasn’t done anything malicious since then. I promise you guys.”

“I believe you.” Marie nods. “Are you _sure_ you don’t know what kind of experiment you were prepped for, if there were any clues she might have given you?”

“I remember her talking about using my Ink for something, but for what, I’m not sure. My Octarian wasn’t very good back then.” 

Pearl takes out a folded sheet of paper from her bag and hands it to Cordelia. The print is neat, but she can only recognize a few words (only because they’re written in Inklish). The green haired Inkling's understanding of Octarian penmanship is _terrible_. “She left this note behind, if you need proof.”

“You can read this?” Cordelia asks. Marie gently takes the note from Cordelia’s hand and examines it for herself.

“I still can’t believe it. You speak perfect Octarian but can’t write it?” Marie says in disbelief. 

“They have too many symbols, and they represent all kinds of emotions.” Cordelia bats her hand in Marie’s direction. One word could have six different meanings depending on where the accent is placed, and that’s only the first part of the word, nevermind a full sentence.” Cordelia remembers the class she opted to take for University Prep. She never went to University, so that was a waste of time.

“If you need it translated, I can read it.” Pearl stands up, extending her arm towards Marie. “I know Octarian very well.”

“If that’s the case, Pearl…” Marie fumbles in her purse as she pulls out a sheet of paper scrawled in black ink. “I need you to keep this between the three of us, but if you can translate this… I’d be more than grateful.”

Pearl nods as she scans the letter—Cordelia watches her eyes scan each line. What, that bastard had the time to write a letter _before_ he escaped? Which probably meant he could have escaped any time he wanted to. Cordelia’s thoughts stop as she sees Pearl put down the paper in …disgust?

Cordelia becomes nervous when Pearl’s gold eyes lock with hers. “I take it you two are ... _well acquainted_.”

“He was our prisoner. I found him by chance on his way to Inkopolis and detained him at our headquarters. Cordelia is our only agent on record who can speak Octarian _well_. And…” Marie looks at Cordelia and pauses. Was _she_ expected to finish her sentence?

“We exchanged favours, a _kiss_ for some  _intel_.” Cordelia shrugs. “So forget any nonsense he wrote about me. Did he say anything about where he was going?”

“Cordelia, he addressed this note _to_ you. I don’t think he realized you couldn’t read Octarian.” Pearl studies the letter. “Because I sure as hell wouldn’t want anyone else reading this if I wrote it … _it_ _’s_ _intense_."

Cordelia grits her teeth, as Marie asks, “Can you read the parts that won’t make poor Cordelia blush?”

Pearl continues, “He’s off to finish what he started, and is sorry that he had to leave so soon.” Pearl puts the letter on the table. “The rest …is meant for Cordelia's eyes only.”

“Anyways!” Cordelia clears her throat. She manages to direct the conversation elsewhere. “What did Marina’s letter say?”

“Before we get to that,” Pearl looks uneasy. “After the two of you came to visit, I had some _friends_ check you guys out. I had suspicions Marie was an agent for quite some time, but Cordelia came as a surprise. If you came to visit us, your Octoling prisoner must have had dirt on Marina.” She stares at Cordelia intensely. “What did he tell you?”

“He mentioned that he was on his way to _fetch Marina from her post._ ” Pearl’s face shows unease, but Cordelia continues, “He mentioned she knows how to tamper with radio waves. Were you aware she could do that?”

“No.” Pearl’s face whitens. “I wasn’t aware.”

“Do you think she messed with any of your concerts?” Marie asks gently. “Or, if she’d have any motivation to?”

“No, not at all.” Pearl puts her hands up. “Marina wouldn’t do anything like that. She loves our fans.”

Cordelia doesn’t say it aloud, but the fact Marina never told Pearl didn’t sit right with her. 

“We agreed to leave her past behind when we started Off The Hook.” Pearl’s voice is shaky. “It was her chance to start anew; for us to have _a life together_.”

“I hope you’re right.” Marie looks conflicted. Remembering their conversation from yesterday, Cordelia can understand why. “But we need to find her as soon as we can. When did you last see her?”

“It was almost midnight. It’s going to sound fabricated, but we decided to have a night where it was just the two of us, without the interference of technology. I don’t have an alibi, so you’ll have to trust me on this one.”

Cordelia steps in. “Can you read Marina’s note?”

Pearl nods as Marie hands the note back to her.

_Pearl reads:_

_Pearlie,_

_I_ _’m sorry it had to be this way, but I can’t let them die._

_I have to save them._

_I love you,_

_M._

“Who does Marina have to save?” Marie questions.

“I don’t know.” Pearl ponders. “I could search her things to see if there’s any documentation or, maybe she was sent some sort of distress signal? I’m not sure if Marina still has her Elite gear, but if she does…”

“That’s how they could have sent out the signal.” Marie gasps. “But if that’s the case, our ex-prisoner wouldn’t have been sent to get Marina.”

“Unless she doesn’t have her gear.” Cordelia adds.

“That’s a bit of an issue.” Pearl pauses. “We’d need police clearance to check the security cameras, but I’m sure I could find someone on the inside.” Cordelia’s unsettled by how causally Pearl mentions that.

“Please do.” Marie nods. And now, she questions Marie's character. 

The shorter Inkling steps up. “Cordelia, can you show me the door?” Her firm grip on Cordelia’s sleeve is indication enough that the Inkling wants to talk with her, without Marie listening. Marie gets the message and pretends to search through her purse, giving the two Inklings the privacy they need.

The two reach the entryway before Pearl begins. “Listen, I need you to be real with me.” Pearl takes a deep breath. “What’s going to happen to Marina if she _is_ behind some sort of Octarian secret agenda?”

“We’d have to try her for treason.” Cordelia frowns. “I know Marie wants to prove Marina’s innocence as bad as you do—they are friends, after all.”

“I know that, but she’s got a job to do. And, it can’t be compromised by a friendship. I understand that much.” Pearl grunts. “I just don’t know what I’d do if Marina was guilty. She’s the love of my life, you know?”

Cordelia doesn’t know what to say, she’s never experienced a love that strong.

“I suppose I can’t beg for you to hide any evidence that’d prove her guilty, either.”

“I’m afraid not.”

Pearl smiles a weak smile. “It’s moments like this where money proves to be useless.”

“I understand more than you realize.” Cordelia nods.

“I know.” Pearl pauses as her eyes curiously fall on the green haired Inkling. “Do you want to know what that letter said?”

“You mean the one with …Pearl, I don't think now is the time-"

“It sounds like you really want to hate him.” Pearl folds her arms. “But the way he wrote that letter, it looks like he’s got a lot of respect for you.” Respect? Yeah _right_.

“How about you tell me another time.” Cordelia gently pats the shorter Inkling’s shoulder. “And I’m sorry if he wrote anything that would visually scar you.”

“A little too late for that.” Pearl’s brows raise. “Let’s just say he’s _impressed_ with you.”

 _For the love of_ _…no, it wasn’t worth saying anymore._

“I’m just teasing you, but I do want to tell you this. He said that he’s coming back for you before he signed his name. It’s an-noted in affection, not as a threat.”

Cordelia shakes her head in confusion. That didn't make any sense. Why would he come back for Cordelia? She was considered an  _enemy_. 

“I didn’t want to tell you that in front of Marie.” Cordelia understands why Pearl wouldn’t, but… _No, just forget it._

Her expression changes from a frown to a small grin. "Do you remember what I told you yesterday? When an Octoling likes you, I'm just warning you, they don't waste time—they have a _seize the moment_ kind of culture." She grins. "So don't be surprised if he decides to kidnap you." A laugh escapes the shorter Inkling's lips. "I'm sure it won't come to that, but if it does ...don't say I didn't warn you." 

“Thanks for that, I…I guess.” Cordelia opens the door. She doesn't want to entertain the thought. “I’ll be in touch as soon as we know more about Marina. Just be careful out there, alright?”

“Yeah, I will Cordelia, thanks.” Pearl bids her farewell as Cordelia gently closes the door. She leans against it and takes a deep breath. What a morning this was turning out to be.

She reconvenes with Marie in the living room, noticing the white haired Inkling staring out the window.

“So, that happened.” Cordelia speaks as she takes a seat. “First, a Rainmaker incident, then a pop star gone rogue.” Starting a conversation with Marie wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but Cordelia was starting to get used to it. It was likely the Inkling would bite at one of the conversation starters.

“Cordelia.” Marie’s demeanour shifts to a somber one. “About yesterday.”

“Marie, look.” Cordelia crosses her arms. “It wasn’t that big of a deal, I felt annoyed because I was being played. I should have expected that from the Octoling, and I didn’t.”

“I offer an apology if I sounded angry at you. I was frustrated because he escaped. I wasn’t mad at you, just more …in shock. I hope you can forgive me.”

“It’s fine. No hard feelings.” To be fair, Cordelia probably would have done the same if she saw Marie’s panties on the floor of their enemy prison cell. Nah, she would have teased her relentlessly. That was more Cordelia’s style.

“Whatever it is to you, I left that detail out of the report. The note I found proved to be enough to go off of …or, rather, when I got it translated.”

“Where did you find it?” Cordelia asks. “I never noticed it when I left.”

“It was on the floor by the bed. My guess is that he left it on the bed before he left. I assume he thought you could read it.”

“It’s a good thing we had a translator.”

Marie agrees.

“To finish what he was set out to do… He told me he was supposed to contact Marina, but if she left hours after he did, chances are that didn’t happen.” Cordelia ponders. What was that Octoling _really_ up to?

The green haired Inkling clears her throat. “Did you tell Callie that he escaped?”

“I did, yes. She was up with me all night trying to piece it all together; we snuck into Starfish Mainstage—the current League stage—to see what we could find. We didn’t find anything out of the ordinary, which gives us suspicion that they took it before the match even started. But here’s the kicker. The report said that the Rainmaker was taken _while_ at Starfish Mainstage.”

Cordelia raises a brow. “So it’s a cover-up story?”

“That’s what I gathered.” Marie nods.

“If it was the work of the Octarians, don’t you think the news-lines would eat that up and exploit it.”

“Or would they? You know how hard we worked to conceal the Great Zapfish’s retrieval?”

“I know, but you understand how appealing a Us Vs Them headline is, right?” Cordelia understands from her own experiences.

“As a star, yes, I’m well aware.” Marie contemplates for a moment before continuing. “If Marina watched the news, or picked up that it was foul play of some kind, I highly doubt that it would be the Octarians. But why the Rainmaker? It takes forever to charge, but once it does, yeah, it's powerful, but..." 

Cordelia's able to finish Marie's sentence. “I’m not sure why either." 

Marie takes her phone out of her purse. “I hate to cut this short, but I do need to go. Not that I don’t want to discuss this, but I need to formulate a plan. Callie can help me bring it together. Feel free to contact me if you get any leads. Pearl will most likely call you first.” Marie gestures to her glass table with a letter on it. “You might want to ask Pearl what the rest of his letter said, even if it’s embarrassing to hear.”

“Maybe.” Cordelia won’t tell Marie that she already had that _generous_ offer.

“I’ll see myself out.” Marie says as she leaves Cordelia to her thoughts.

Cordelia looks at the clock. Everything was happening so quickly. She pulls out her phone, flicking through the notifications. A thought comes to her mind, encouraging her to go through her contacts. She sees Agent B*tch, and pauses for a moment. To be fair, a bitch wouldn’t have said the things Marie just did. She sighs. Cordelia may regret this later, but she can stand to change the name of her contact. She taps Edit and corrects it to, _Marie_. Cordelia slips the phone into her pocket.

There. Much better. 


	7. Chapter 7

Cordelia thought the fresh air from the great outdoors would help her clear her thoughts. Perhaps sitting on her porch wasn’t considered the outdoorsiest of places, but it was the best she has on such short notice. The sun shone on the cusp of each wave. The Great Ocean was _breathtaking_. Yet, it doesn’t distract Cordelia from Pearl's words. Pearl _knew_ she was Agent 4, which begged the question; who did she hire? If Pearl knows, then who else knew their secret? It was unlikely that Pearl would sell her out. There was no reason to be suspicious of the Inkling. Cordelia sets down her cup of water. She stands up, letting a stretch build through her back, gently pulling her arms until a satisfying tingle releases from her shoulders. There. Nothing a good stretch couldn’t solve.  

Cordelia places her hands on the cool glass table. Her skin shivers from the brief coolness felt in her palms. She brings the tips of her fingers to her warm cheeks. The sensation gives Cordelia relief.  Within three days, she had to deal with an exponential workload. Cordelia had to keep her wits about her. It wasn't the end of the world that Pearl knew who she was. She came to Cordelia with a problem; that was all. Pearl wouldn't let their secret out. Cordelia wants to believe that thought, but an uncertain twinge in her gut advises against it.  

_Well, that's concerning._

Cordelia wants to pick up the phone and call someone,  _anyone_. The pressure was becoming too much. Once her mind began attacking her that was it. But, Cordelia had to remember one thing.

 _No matter if her thoughts were attacking, or supporting her, the outside result was already determined._ _Worrying was a misuse of her imagination._

Her father told her this very thing, ever since she was a little girl. In moments like this, she missed him.

Cordelia plays with the edge of her phone, trailing her finger down the encrusted side. Could she resolve the tension and go home? The sparkle of the Great Ocean's waves catches her attention for a moment. No. Not yet. 

She was needed as Agent 4. 

Cordelia picks herself off the chair and opens the balcony door. Stepping inside, she notices the temperature change. It brings her back to her encounter with the Octoling. She hated to say it, but his letter brought elation to her gut. She was still quite mad—very mad as she reminds herself—but the fact that he  _enjoyed_  himself when he was with her ...it makes her smile. If that was the last of their encounters, she would have been denied one of the best intimate partners she had ever had. Cordelia shakes her head. Now wasn't the time for such thoughts.

Cordelia pulls her phone from her pocket and checks the time. Past noon, and still no word from Pearl. Hmm.  

She'd call Marie to see where she was in the investigation, not because she needed something to do. Cordelia sighs, knowing that's a lie. She places her phone on the counter while she walks to her room. The secure line was annoying to retrieve, but that was the communication Marie preferred best. She grabs the secure line from her bedroom drawer and flips it open. She finds Marie's name and clicks Dial. 

"Hello!" The voice on the other line was way too peppy (and congested) to be Marie. 

"Callie?" Cordelia attempts to hide her disbelief. "Why do you have Marie's phone?" 

"She's a bit tied up, and no I don't mean literally." She giggles. "She's head deep into paperwork. What did you need, Corlie?" 

 _No, not that nickname._ "I was curious about the case. How's that going?" 

"Meeting with the officials is a pain in the butt, but it's going. No need to drag you into it unless we need the muscle." Callie's giggle is more of a laugh this time around. "Not that you're useless. It's just a  _more fingers in the pot_  kind of situation."

"If that's how you feel, why not send me into Octo Canyon? See if I can dig up Intel that way?" Cordelia offers what sounds to be a solid solution. 

"Remember what Marie said before? It's too dangerous, they'd have upped their defences since you last  _visited_. And besides..." Her voice briefly stalls. "Our  _escapee_  might have told his friends about us. It's just not safe to travel down that way yet, at least without a solid plan."

Cordelia agrees. Yet, her gut says the Octoling wouldn't be so fast to out them. He struck her as the type to see everything as a game, not to seek revenge. "Yeah, I see where you're coming from." 

"You can come visit if you like, or, you know, just take the day off." She can hear a grin on the other line. "We know where to find you if we need your help." Cordelia can hear low murmurs on the other line. Callie continues, "Right, and Marie told me that if Pearl calls, notify us immediately."

"Got it." Cordelia frowns that she's not needed, but maybe Callie's right. Today would be a nice day to philander about town. 

"I'll let you know if she gets back to me." 

"Sounds great!” The black haired Inkling hangs up before Cordelia gets a chance to say goodbye.

Well, today would be like all the other days since she saved the Great Zapfish. An endless sea of time, and enough money at her disposal to enjoy it. But, Cordelia would turn to the internet to drown out the boredom, participating in online forums as her username _Cordalicious_ and talk about the latest news and gossip. She even saw a rumour about why Callie had disappeared—to hide a mysterious pregnancy and had the baby put up for adoption. She didn’t think Inklings would believe such a ridiculous rumour until some _insane_ parents (with adopted newborns) claimed their baby was Callie’s orphaned offspring. Cordelia was baffled at the images, those Inkling babies looked nothing like the pop star. Cordelia found that rumour to be beyond ridiculous; obviously, Callie played for the same team. Or, at least Cordelia _thought_. She had no proof, just another feeling logged from her gut. A shiver craws up Cordelia’s back. Not that she wanted to go to the forums again. The last thing she’d want to see in the social papers was her own name.

Cordelia grabs her white faux-leather purse and slips the secure phone line in one of the pockets. She grabs her other phone from the kitchen and puts it in before she slips her feet into a glimmering pair of heels. She liked the way they sparkled when she walked.

Cordelia struts down the sidewalk, digging for her shades. She smiles when she finds them. Sweet relief comes once she puts them on. She knew how obnoxious her glimmering heels were to oncoming pedestrians; she didn’t care. She knows she looks fabulous. She eyes some of the storefronts; a gym, a new clothing store… No. None of them felt right. Cordelia craved something different. Would it be worth it to call a cab and hitch a ride to Inkopolis Square? She was craving some take out—something she thought she’d never say. Cordelia grabs her phone and prays that she doesn’t get the same cab driver she got the night before. That would be awkward.  

 

Night begins to fall; the burning red horizon seeks Cordelia’s attention. It’s a good thing she wasn’t a sailor, or that could spell impending doom. Cordelia decided to see a movie, _CallaSquid Adventures,_ which turned out to be an adventure marathon. She's thankful she had a meal before the movie; that ate up her entire afternoon. Now outside of the theatre, Cordelia notices a crowd of inklings leaving the Turf Destination Station. It’s a good thing that League wasn’t cancelled altogether, or she sensed that she’d be running into some very disappointed teens. The news reports did say that Splatzones, Tower Control and Clam Blitz were still fit to be in rotation.

Cordelia checks both phones. She’s surprised that neither Pearl nor Marie messaged her. Cordelia’s gut jumps back to Pearl’s potential untrustworthiness. _Ugh_. _Stop it, Cordelia. You were fine when she was sitting in your living room this morning. Why choose now to become paranoid?_ Cordelia shakes her head. It was best she got home as well. She swings her purse around her shoulder and looks for the nearest cab home. Hmm. Cordelia raises a brow when she notices that the cab parkade is empty. Cordelia could call for a cab, but… She shrugs. She’d take a walk around, see the sights in this gorgeous evening. And, she needed to move her legs—all that sitting made them stiff.

The views near Sturgeon Shipyard would be fabulous. With a nice red sky, it’d be great to take a picture with her phone. She was in need of a new background. It would be a ten minute walk at the most; she’d brave it out. Cordelia prays that it doesn’t get too dark; even she doesn’t feel comfortable braving the darkness alone.

The sky dims ever so slightly, but not enough that it’s worth turning back. However, something feels off… Unease washes over Cordelia as she walks by Sturgeon Shipyard. She sees the metal gate ajar; strange. The Shipyard is supposed to be closed around this time. Maybe one of the workers would kindly let her use the lift.

Cordelia steps through the gate, noticing sporadic shadow movements underneath one of the lamps. Cordelia has a feeling that this isn’t a good idea, but even with her curiosity getting the better of her, she doesn't forget to push the gate wide open. One was never sure when they would need an escape plan. Her hand to hand combat skills would be enough to keep potential attackers at bay if it turned out to be a couple of ruffians. Cordelia climbs over one of the boxes, climbing to a metal platform to get a better look at what was going on. Her eyes grow wide as three Octolings surface from the shadows. She ducks her head as they survey the area. Shit.

No. Cordelia reminds herself. She should be fine. There was no need to panic. They couldn’t see her. She couldn’t let her guard down. She might have had training as Agent 4, but against a team of Octolings, _without_ a weapon? She’d be screwed. Cordelia holds her breath as she hears footsteps. Nerves fill her gut as she hears the footsteps coming closer. She hears the faint sound of the splattershot spitting out ink.

_SHIT!_

Cordelia turns to run, but the fire from their splattershot stops her in her tracks. Against enemy ink, she’d be toast in a matter of seconds. She rolls away from the next attempt as she uses the wall as leverage to escape their fire. She kicks her shoes off and throws it at one of the Octolings behind her. It pelts her in the face, knocking her goggles off.

_Yes!_

She slips off the other shoe and puts it in her purse in case she needs another projectile. Call her psychic, but she anticipates that’ll be soon.

Cordelia stops in her tracks as another Octoling bars her path. What the hell was going on here?! They’re grunts, from what she can tell in this dim light. One approaches her; she manages to leap to the right, securing the contents in her purse quite admirably. Damn, if there was a way she could secure one of their splattershots...

Cordelia begins to panic as three begin to chase her down. And more, down below as she notes purple ink blocking her path. Cordelia sees one of the platforms curving upwards. She decides it’s the best course to take. She maneuvers away from the splash of ink, managing to save herself once again. There was no way she could take them down without her own equipment. However, maybe some objects around the shipyard would help her keep the girls at bay. She looks and notices a wooden plank. She runs for it and grabs it, smacking one of the Octolings from behind. She expected a scream, a yell, _something_ _!_

The Octoling's arm is grazed with a scratch; a pale, yellow liquid drips from her arm. That was yellow ink! It didn’t make sense, the ink from their splattershots was purple. Something wasn't right... 

Cordelia doesn’t have time to contemplate as she uses the board as a shield for the one with the splattershot. The enemy ink hits the tip of her fingers, forcing her to drop the plank. Dammit! She spins her heel left as she attempts another roll as the next shot tears into her jacket. She can hear the ink sizzle through her clothes, she flinches as some if it makes contact with her skin. It didn't tear into her skin, but it god damn hurt! She’s knocked to the ground. The tips of her fingers are tender.

There’s no way that ink wasn’t tampered with. It felt like it was imbued with some kind of acid. That wouldn’t make sense; the tanks they have couldn’t support that kind of ink.

Cordelia notices one of the Octolings approaches her; a brief analysis proves that the tank on its back has the _F_ logo that she’s all too familiar with. It was small, but it was there.

_Oh, god no!_

Cordelia scrambles to her feet. This was a fight she _knew_ she couldn’t win. She hops off the platform, scrambling to the gate; if she could get out in time, she might be able to trap them here. It was too risky to call Marie. In seconds, Cordelia is surrounded by the Octolings. One manages to corner her, toppling the Inkling. She hears the contents of her purse spill onto the tarmac as the bag is flipped upside down. Cordelia does her best to secure the items; it’s too dark to see what fell out. She had to take her chances; her life was more precious than a silly array of technology.

Cordelia braces herself for the worst. The Octoling laugh; the most terrifying and eerie sound she’s ever heard—is oddly missing. Cordelia knows the Octolings _savour_ their chase. These ones; there was not a peep from their lips. it was like they had no life in them.

Cordelia takes a look up at her attacker; her face is cold—her eyes barely focused. This couldn’t be one of those drones Marie was referring to. The Octoling attacker readies her gun as Cordelia braces against the attack with her arms; She closes her eyes, hearing the charge of the attacker’s weapon.

 _Damn it all_.

She squints as she knows what’s coming next; that Octoling was aiming for her face. She lets out a yelp before the clang of that same weapon vibrates from the ground. Her eyes open to see a tall, _dark_ figure swoop in and rip the attacker from her body as he stands in front of her, to prevent any more from besting the Inkling. The dim lighting reveals a familiar leather jacket, belonging to a familiar male acquaintance. 

Cordelia couldn’t believe it. 

“O-Octoling?!” She gasps, as his face remains serious, braving the dangers before him. She remains silent as he takes the Octoling down with one blast from his weapon. His head cocks to the side as that familiar O shape forms on his lips.

<Cordelia?> He makes a final turn before he kneels down. <What the hell are you doing in a place like this, unarmed?>

 _Don’t you start_. Is what she wants to say. But, her gut lights up with enjoyment as he scoops her up effortlessly. She should say thanks for saving her ass. But she remains silent. It’s more a Cordelia thing to sulk than to show gratitude. How could he run so fast with her in his arms like that? She wasn’t a heavy woman, but he must be some strong in order to do that.

Why should she be fussing over something so silly when she’s literally being _scooped away by the hot ex-prisoner_.

<Excuse me!> She decides to intervene. She didn’t escape from a herd of Octolings only to get kidnapped by another.  <We can’t just let them run around, we have to go back and finish them off!>

He doesn’t speak; his expression remains stone cold.

<I’m Agent 4, for crying out loud. I can take care of myself.> Her eyes narrow, but it’s obvious he doesn’t notice, _or care_.  <So put me down or I will->

<Will _what?_ > He stops, his violet eyes are upon her. Her demeanor shivers with delight. <Tell me what you’ll do, unarmed, and in _that_ getup. >

His eyes linger on the tear (which, she’d be horrified to learn later that her undergarments were showing). She can’t understand how her body aches in pain, and for _him_. Maybe she had some unresolved thing for bad boys. Yep. That was it. She couldn’t blame his presence on Marie this time around, so she had to blame it on something else.

<Did you not see the droids? They’d have killed you if I hadn't stepped in.>

<Droids?> Those Octolings she encountered back there were droids? That couldn’t be …unless, _An army of fabricated soldiers who have no will of their own…_ _Marie said there was_ some species of Octarians that were are bred in a lab to only fight. What she witnessed tonight was just that.

<They’ll kill anything on site. What is there not to understand about that?!> His frustrated tone becomes relevant in his voice. Well, there’s one way to solve his frustrations.  

<Okay, Octoling. Put me down. Let me go home> She suggests. <Then I’ll be out of your hair.>

<Unprotected? No, I don’t think so.> Why is it that when he sounds serious, her legs turn to jelly? <You have nothing to protect yourself with.>

While that was true, that was no excuse for his brutish behaviour ...even if it was well intended. <That shouldn't concern you.>

His violet eyes glisten as they catch under the streetlight. His gaze on her is intense, but it doesn’t trouble her. She catches her cheeks burning again.

_Dammit!_

<I’d have left you to die if that’s what I wanted.> His hot gaze lingers on her as he lowers her down. <Aren’t you happy I didn't?>  

Judging by his initial surprise when he saw that it was Cordelia, she could safely assume he was doing a good deed. Yet, there was a problem. Why defend an enemy from your own kind?

<I just don’t get it.> Cordelia turns from him. <Agent 2 locked you up, you lure me into some sort of erotic trance, then you escape, and _now_ you going around, saving Inklings?! >

<Who likes being imprisoned?> He shrugs. <Unless your captor is a _delightful_ Inkling such as yourself. >

A blush lines her face. <You tampered with the grates, which leads me to believe that you could have escaped any time you wanted to.>

He frowns. <I had my reasons. Would you prefer to stay in captivity, or be free?>

<Don’t turn this around on me.> Her arms cross. <Tell me the truth.>

The Octoling turns to her, lifting her up with one arm. He pins her to the brick wall nearby, as his hand begins to wander under her dress. Her body warms to his advances. Unfortunately for him, so does her temper.

<Don’t you _dare_. > She seethes. <You don’t get the right to do with me what you please. Don’t forget who you’re messing with.>

<I know who you are, Agent 4. But, I prefer to address you by your proper name. The one I like more.> His purr doesn’t help matters. <You want the truth, you know what you have to give me.> His grin grows wider as his hand becomes wayward, trailing down her thigh. Cordelia shudders, both from pleasure, and anger.

The Octoling licks his lips. <I _should_ ask you to give me a reward _just_ for rescuing you. >

 _Ooh_ , that was too far, even for a stud-muffin like him.

<What part of _no_ don’t you understand?! > She bats him off with her arm; his look of pure confusion fuels her temper. How does he get off on believing that he has the right to do with her as he pleases?! He releases her from his grasp, her feet give way as her knees meet the dirt.

Cordelia complains, <You don’t have to drop me!>

<You made it clear that you don’t need my help.> He raises a brow, a notable frown lines his lips. <It’s no fun if I have to force you.>

No… _No_. He didn’t get to play _understanding_ Octoling. Not after the shit he pulled …by, _ugh_ , saving her life from the droids. But, he escaped! Which… she doesn’t know the reason why, but she was sure it was for something sinister. Why else would he be instructed to retrieve Marina? But worst of all; she feels a twinge of disappointment lace her gut. No. She wasn’t going to allow that man to do a _bloody thing_ to her, at least …not without an explanation. Cordelia should be ashamed of herself for her conflicting thoughts. Her mother was right. She was a fickle creature.

<Tell me why you escaped, _now_. Or I’ll turn you in. > Her eyes narrow as her arms cross. He doesn’t seem to be listening to her; he’s fiddling with the splattershot he stole from the droid. She looks through her bag, seeing that the secure line made it out alive. Same with her wallet. But her phone… was on the pavement of the damn Shipyard. She studies the secure phone briefly before deciding what she should do. No. She’d stay with the Octoling and get as much information as she could. She still had her wallet, so she could call a cab, the police, or whoever she wanted to.

UGH! 

She needed her phone in case Pearl texted her back. No matter how important, she can’t let on what she knows to the Octoling. That means she can’t get upset about that phone. Even though she wants to scream. Her disgruntled sigh grabs the Octoling’s attention, despite her question passing right through his ears. Slowly, he lifts himself from his position and turns to her, slipping his hand around the curve of her calf. 

<Did you ask me something?> Now his ignorance infuriates her.

<I asked you why you left.> She mutters a thanks through tight lips. <If you gave me a good reason to, I could have made a case for you. Now the Agents see you as a person of interest.>

Wait—did she seriously just say that?! Ooh _god_ , yes she did.

<I didn’t realize you wanted to clear my name.> His warm smile does things to her that she’d rather not admit. <I’ll tell you. But, you have to do something for me.>

<And that is…?> her arms cross tighter than they did before. <I told you that touching me is off the table, which you're violating...>

<Violating? That implies you don't enjoy it.> He smiles, as his lips trail the edge of her calf. Cordelia does her best to remain composed as her skin tingles from the contact of his lips.

_Keep it together, Cordelia._

<I’m going to kick you in the bloody face if you don’t cut that out.> Cordelia’s stammering doesn’t convince either of them.

<Address me by my name, _Radjerd_. Then, I’ll talk. > His lips are lost on her leg as she bites her lip. She could feel his teeth lightly graze her skin … _No!_

<Get off!> She flails her leg in an attempt to get him to stop. To her surprise, he lets go. She huffs. <If I call you by your name, you’re going to tell me _why_ you left? > There better not be some damn loophole. The Octoling’s eyes gleam with satisfaction. So, that was a yes.

Cordelia clears her throat as he gets off his knees. His frame once again towers her own. She takes a breath.

<Radjerd, please, tell me why you escaped.> 

His name sounds foreign from her lips, but his curved grin shows he loves it. He speaks a verse even Cordelia can’t translate. His eyes sparkle as he pulls her into his arms, lowering his lips onto hers. Not even she can deflect his advances. He holds her there as he studies her expression, but for only a moment as he whispers.

<Oh, _M_ _y_ _Cordelia._ There’s going to be a war.>


	8. Chapter 8

_“WHAT?!”_

Cordelia screams in her native tongue. She’s thankful his arms are wrapped around her, or, she’d be back first into the dirt. How could he sound so casual about a statement like this?!

<You’re surprised?> The Octoling stares at her with speculation. <You’re Agent 4, and the prospect of war is alarming to you?>

<Yes!> She frees herself from his grasp as her hand makes its way into her purse. <There’s no way I can’t report this to Agent 2.>

She doesn’t appreciate his amused grin.

<You’re certain that I’m telling the truth?>

<No. You’re not going to do _that_. > She points an accusatory finger at him. <You can’t just tell me there’s a war, then question me when I believe you. I can get you thrown in the slammer so fast, I swear!>

He falls silent. Cordelia can’t judge what he’s thinking; a first since they’ve met. She’s not sure what she expected out of him, maybe a grin, a joke, or some kind of lewd gesture. Yet, nothing. She hears a long drawn out sigh.

<How much do you know about our history?>

<A little.> She speaks so softly that he barely hears it. <I only know about the Great Turf War.> She didn’t remember too much from school. She knew the Inklings and Octarians had The Great Turf War over a century ago. The Inklings won, which deemed the Octarians to live underground.

<That’s it?> Surprise laces his tone. <But you speak perfect Octarian, so I presumed an Octoling must have taught you. They didn’t care to mention our culture?>

Octarian was taught in some Inkling institutions, but it was few and far between. Her father had to scout a linguist from across the Great Ocean to teach her, and at the same time, himself. For a while, her father and her would address each other only in Octarian. It seemed to piss her mother off, so all the more reason to learn (and perfect) the language. Her Octarian penmanship skills however …weren’t the best. Neither her tutor or University prep course could get her head around the penmanship, however renowned both were. 

<My dad wanted me to learn it. For business purposes, probably.> She ponders briefly, for it would make the most sense if it had to do with business dealings. Her father might have been a meek man in the eyes of his wife, but in the business world he could turn sales pitches into gold. The Octarians were an untapped market. It made fiscal sense to attempt a business relationship with some. Briefly, the image of the droid’s Ink Tank comes back to her. Nah. The droids were using tanks that were bought from a weapons shop. Any weapons shop, she reminds herself. The idea that her father would make acid proof tanks for the Octarians—that would be preposterous. That might have been a Firthe tank she saw, but who’s to say the Octarian weapons department weren’t making their own modifications?

<Cordelia?> He waves a hand in front of her face.

<I’m sorry, what?> Dammit, she’s done it again; filled her own head with utter nonsense.

<I asked you if an Octoling taught you the language. If so, I’d like to know who.>

Cordelia lightly shakes her head. <No, just some crustacean who was a professor at some highbrow institution. Can’t remember the name.> Cordelia lies. _University of Thermidor_ was the name; her one-way ticket to freedom. A shame life doesn’t always work out the way you want it to. Cordelia sighs.

<A professor taught you the language?> He smiles. <I knew you were high bred, but that’s pretty fancy.>

<I’m not just some pedigree broodmare.> She frowns. <I am to be the heir to my father’s dynasty.>

<Is that so?> His frown lightens. <I thought you’d have been bred to infiltrate enemy bases since you performed those tasks as Agent 4. But, you were bred to take over a company?>

A bleak way of phrasing it, but… <Yes, I guess I was.>

<If your purpose was to run a company, why did you become an Agent?>

<It wasn’t really a choice, rather, an _ultimatum_. > Cordelia wouldn’t have the time to explain that story to him. If ever. Speaking of, she couldn’t be focused on her own history. She had to press him for more information about this _supposed_ war. Or, if he was even telling the truth.

<So, what’s your story?> Cordelia asks unenthusiastically.

<I trained at the Academy until I was strong enough to lead my own division of soldiers. Like all Elites do.> He rubs his hands together as he speaks, his focus remains on the ground. If Cordelia were to guess, she’d assume the reminder was making him uncomfortable. Cordelia sensed there was more politics that she cared to get into, but, she needed something to gnaw on.

<Your parents sent you to some military boarding school?> 

<Parents?>

Cordelia pulls a face. He’s really yanking her chain today. <Yeah, like a mom, a dad. You wouldn’t be here if not for them, obviously.>

<Yeah, in a manner of speaking.> She’s unsettled by his sudden grin. <It’s encouraged, but not required.> Somehow, that statement _amused_ him? She gets his meaning as soon as his hand _somehow_ finds its way around her waist.  <I’d say it’s a lot more satisfying to _combine_ genes, but that’s just me. >

Oh good god. He’s referring to breeding. _Unbelievable…_

<Get off!> She jerks her hips away from him. His laugh implies he said those words to get a rise out of her. Well. It worked. Cordelia is _not_ going there.

Back to the topic at hand. <What you’re saying is that Octarians don’t need two parents, they can make do with the one?>

<If the foot of the tentacle is cut off, it can form into a solitary Octarian soldier. Us Octolings however, we require a different method of genetic merging.>

_Merging?_

<What I mean is, when a mother Octoling and a father Octoling love each other very much…> He raises a brow, obviously noting the sour expression on her face. <Does that help?>

 _For the love of all things pure_ …if she can say that anymore. At this point, she’d rather be distracted with this supposed _war_.

<You’re a child.> She crosses her arms.  <Back on topic; you claim there’s a war on the horizon.>

<It’s way past the horizon.> The Octoling shakes his head as he closes his eyes. The look of indifference irritates her. <I don’t need to be convinced, because I know it’s happening. We’ve done our best to simulate life from above, but...> His brows furrow. <We’re running out of power.>

 _Serves them right for stealing the Great Zapfish_ , Cordelia thinks to herself. Karma at its finest.

<It started with one of your accomplices, Agent 3.> It’s funny he says, accomplice, because she’s never met the Inkling. She was still in finishing school at that point, and, still in her family’s good graces.

<They took our power source—>

<—That you _stole_ from us to begin with. > Cordelia interrupts. <Don’t act like this is the Inklings’ fault. You were using the power source to fuel those giant _Octoweapons_ —that almost killed me just so you know—so don’t act like the Octarians were the innocent party here.> She folds her arms tightly.

<Yes, we have _replacement_ zapfishes, but that’s to keep the population unsuspecting. As I said before, our power sources are dwindling. We can’t sustain Octo Canyon much longer. 17% of our underground habitat is already uninhabitable—or, should I say 34% considering your Agent 3 totalled it.> He scowls.

<Octo Valley wasn’t totalled by anything other than your kind’s incompetence.> She sticks her chin in the air as she glares at the accusing party. <Don’t start pinning the blame on Inklings for your misdeeds.>

<Misdeeds?! You’re not serious.> He growls.

<You’re still thinking about those little zap fishes, aren’t you? Maybe, if you were using them for things other than weapons of mass destruction, we might have left them alone. Besides, you’re acting like I know Agent 3. All I know is that he's on vacation somewhere.> She was not about to reveal the location of the Agent in question or the Capt. From what she remembers, they were going to the cape for a research trip.

<You did the exact same thing to Octo Canyon.> He points out. <Which makes you no better.>  

< _God_ , what is it that you don’t get?! I took back what was stolen from us. And yes, I took the power source from your super weapons, but can you blame me? Don’t act all high and mighty. You’d have defended yourself if you had to.> His scowl deepens. <Look, no one died. All of you just respawn in the end anyway; it’s a menace if you ask me.>

He turns his head to face her. <You destitute Octo Canyon of power, then have the audacity to think it’s no big deal?!>

<You just said you have replacements—why not just use that to fix your power problem instead of stealing what doesn’t belong to you?>

 _< Watch yourself.>_ His eyes darken for a moment.  She can see the contemplation in his eyes. She narrows her own. She’s not going to allow him to threaten her.

<Watch myself?> She scoffs. <You are telling _me_ to watch myself? That’s cute. > She smirks as his face goes blank. <You must be some ignorant, because you keep _forgetting_ who you’re talking to. >

Cordelia’s breath is stifled when he grabs her, forcing her in an almost headlock. His breathing is heavy; the energy’s shifted. Cordelia lets out an involuntary squeak as his arm rests against her neck. He’s not strangling her; although the glint in his eye hints that he wants to. Her stomach falls. If he decided to attack her, right now, she’d be in trouble. He’s armed; even if he didn’t have an Ink Tank, there’d be enough in the barrel of that splattershot for a couple of shots. She can’t forget that.

He lets go suddenly; Cordelia repositions herself in case he decided to finish the job. She wasn’t hurt, just a little shook. He turns to her, unable to look her in the face. A frustrated hand rests on his forehead. She swears she hears him mutter something, but it’s in that incomprehensible language again. Their argument _was_ heated. She’s fortunate he had a change of heart.

If she’s to get anywhere, she had to hold her tongue. Cordelia composes herself as best she can. She had to make nice.

<Hey.>

The warm familiarity of his stare is gone. <What?>

<So I might have said some things…> She grits her teeth as her focus lingers on the ground. She’s never been good at admitting her shortcomings. <...That weren’t very nice…>

<That tongue of yours will get you killed.> She hears a sigh. <But not by my hand, apparently.>

<Surprising, since I seem to be the reason your nation is in disarray.> Cordelia mumbles. Oh _shit._ Did he hear that?

<Your whole bloody race is the problem.> He mumbles back.

_Deep breaths, Cordelia. Don’t let him get to you._

<I am sorry you feel that way.> She does her best to sound genuine, but it comes out dry. Man, she was _horrible_ at this.

The Octoling pulls the splattershot from its holster and looks at it before he puts it back. She breathes a sigh of relief. For a moment she thought he was going to pull it out on her.

<You know, the city’s going to be on high alert when they find the drone bodies.> His tone sounds stiff.

Cordelia’s briefly reminded of the manufactured Octolings. It gives Cordelia chills to picture how many the Octarians could produce. If they were already showing themselves, wasn’t that proof enough of what the Octoling was saying? Cordelia feels she got as much as she could out of him. At least, until his mood lightens.

<We should probably leave then, go somewhere private.> She catching the Octoling’s attention. She motions for him to follow. <Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there and sulk?>

<I’m not sulking.> He says in defiance.

<Well, if you want to be listed as a suspect, that’s your problem, but I’m going this way.> She points ahead with a finger. <I’m not being wrapped up in any more scandal, thanks.>  By the harbourside was a tunnel that leads to the subway. She didn’t take it often (due to the horrid smells and strange company who bore said smells) but this was one time where she didn’t want to call a cab. The faster they got to her place, the better.

She takes a glance behind her to check that he was following. He was following her, however, he was keeping his distance. _Man_ , he must really be allergic to apologies.

Cordelia walks on the grassy parts of the harbourside, continuing alongside the glittering (now moonlit) water. She didn’t have her shoes, her dress was torn, and a potential “not killer” was following her. This was not how she was planning to spend her night. He remains silent as she motions for him to follow her to the stairwell. The cement was dirty; a shiver trails up her leg when her foot makes contact with the cool surface. Her lips curl as she takes each step.

This was disgusting.

She looks to see that the Octoling had caught up, he soon passes her down the steps. Of course he would with those long, _shapely_ legs.

_No, Cordelia. You’re pissed at him, remember?_

She stops when he leans down in front of her, as he motions with his hands for her to hop on. Was he offering her a piggyback? Oh dear…

His voice verifies her theory. <Get on my back.>

<Are you sure?> She says quietly.

<You don’t have shoes.> His voice is stiff.  

Fair point. She braces herself before she gets on his back. She has a bit of a challenge when his leather jacket sticks to her thighs, but she secures himself comfortably. She grips her arms around his neck. Her cheeks flush as he stands up; a strange sensation fills her chest as she’s lifted off the ground.  She holds on as he walks down the set of stairs. When they reach the bottom, his grip doesn’t loosen. Oh, so he was going to do this the _whole_ way. Her face reddens at the thought of any potential passersby.

Thankfully, the hall seems empty. Just the echo of his footsteps, and her heart pounding through her ears. The urge to lean her head against his shoulder was strong, but she doesn’t do it. Even with the lines they’ve crossed, it seemed too intimate. She keeps her head propped up until they reach the terminal gate. She sees the vendor behind the glass wall.

<If you let me down, I’ll pay for our passes.> She whispers. He complies, easing his knees to the ground.  She hops off, and continues to the terminal. She knocks on the glass to get the vendor’s attention. An elderly Inkling woman adjusts her glasses before speaking through the mic. Cordelia asks for two passes, and the elderly woman gives them to her with no trouble. Cordelia’s card verifies payment and she collects the two passes given to her. She hands one of the passes to the Octoling.

<Swipe through here.> She says as she swipes her card through the detector.

<I know how to use a swipe card.> The Octoling says gruffly. Cordelia pulls a face as she goes through, directing him to their gate.

<We want Flounder Station.> She motions for him to follow. Cordelia holds her nose as an awful smell fills the air. This is why she preferred cabs to the subway, even if the subway could cut her travel time in half. A few residents walk past the two; Cordelia double checks to make sure the rip in her dress is covered by her purse. To their luck, the subway arrives the minute they step into the Flounder Station Terminal.

<Why are we going to Flounder Heights?> He finally speaks.

<I live there.> She crosses her arms. <If you haven’t noticed, I’m a mess.> He examines her shortly. A small grin forms on his lips. Good, they were getting somewhere. They step onto the subway and sit near the exit. The subway is practically empty. He eyes her suspiciously as he sits down.

<This better not be a setup.> He mumbles.

<It's not.> Cordelia huffs. <I just told you we’re going to my place.> _Geez._

They remain silent for the ride. Two stops, then Flounder Station.

Swiftly, Cordelia steps off the subway, as the Octoling follows her. God, she hopes she doesn’t run into any neighbours here. Her unit wasn’t _too_ much farther from the station, so hopefully, she could get home soon.

Ugh; her feet felt _disgusting_. She hurries up the stairs and massages the soles of her feet into the nearest patch of grass above. The moisture from the blades of grass gives Cordelia that satisfying, fresh feeling.

 _Ooh_.

The Octoling eyes her curiously.

<It’s not much farther.> She motions for him to follow. She’d appreciate it if he stopped looking at her like she was marching him to his death. His pace slows down as he keeps his distance behind her.

What a salty man.

 

Cordelia breathes a sweet sigh of relief as she makes it to her place. She locks the door behind her as she tells him to sit, immediately hurrying to her room. She throws off her torn dress and jacket and slips on a floral grey printed one of the same fashion. She hurries out of her room to see if the Octoling is still there. He is; just patiently waiting on the settee. His arms are crossed. He’s still frowning.

She sits in the chair, across from the glass table. She clears her throat, hoping to get his attention.

<Look, I said I was sorry.>

He frowns heavily.  

<What’s your problem?> Cordelia stands up. <I can’t help that I’m an Inkling. You can’t help that you’re an Octoling. Let’s just get that out of the way.>

He grits his teeth. <You’re not just _any_ Inkling, Cordelia. >

<And you’re not just any Octoling, _Radjerd_. > She folds her arms. Yeah, she sees how he just looked at her. _Take that._

<Fair point.> He gruffly admits. Silence fills the room soon afterwards, leaving the two occupants to their thoughts.

God. She can’t take this anymore. 

<Seriously. What’s your deal? You’re acting like a completely different person.> She doesn’t appreciate his facial expression turning sour. It was the truth, after all.

<I regret jumping you …back there.>

What? This couldn't be why he was sulking. Cordelia remains silent as he continues. <I was mad, and it was a stupid thing to do.>

Cordelia remains wide eyed as a soft red tint washes over her pale complexion. <It’s fine, really. Don’t beat yourself up over it.>

He looks surprised.

<Well, don’t give me that look.> Cordelia sighs. <Believe it or not, I don’t have anything against you, personally. Except, for all of your unnecessary touching.> She pulls a face. It was a half-truth, but she hated how her body approved of it more than him touching her.

Cordelia realizes what she’s done when his face softly falls into that cocky grin. Oh _god_. He moves closer to her, as she backs up on the seat.

She invited him into her home. She did not think this through one bit. Dammit. His fingers play with the edge of her dress as he leans in. Cordelia freezes as he gently brings her closer to his warm chest. His lips touch hers; not aggressive like she was expecting. It was soft; calm. She melts into his arms.

It feels _amazing_.

<Is that better?> He whispers as he lets go of her lips.

<I…think so.> Her voice is barely a whisper.  

<I don’t want to hurt you, Cordelia. Even though you’re an Inkling. Even with what you’ve done.> He holds her face with both hands. Cordelia’s skin tingles at his touch. He’s gentle. 

_This is dangerous._

She brought him back to discuss war intel, not seduce her. But, how could she when his violet gaze burned through her. She had to muster all her strength to say these words:

<Let’s make a deal.>


	9. Chapter 9

The Octoling scoops Cordelia up into his arms. She gasps; unsuspecting of his actions. He whisks her to the long settee where he guides her onto her back. His smirk grows as his gaze lingers on her lips; his cool hand glides up her thigh. Cordelia tenses, but only for a moment. Her skin quickly warms to his touch.

<A deal, hmm?> His lips barely hover over hers as he nestles his leg between her thighs.

<Don’t get too excited.> Unconvinced as she sounds, Cordelia wants solid clues on who the orchestrator is. Considering D.J. Octavio was moved to a secure facility within Inkopolis’ Special Forces, she doubted it was on his orders. He was a master with hypno-waves and musical beats, not bringing lifeless soldiers into the world. That was reserved for an enemy too cunning to have revealed themselves that easily. 

He speaks, <It’s too late for that.>  

Cordelia’s breath is stolen by the Octoling; her gasp silenced by his ever-convincing tongue. How was it possible from a single kiss that her thoughts would be thrown into a foggy aftermath? She lifts her arm to push him, but it becomes weak as she presses it against the leather of his jacket. She doesn’t want to discourage this; despite how much she should. She shudders when his mouth leaves hers, his lips make it to the nape of her neck. Her fingers curl as her breathing wavers. This man was dangerous.

<What is it that you want to know?> He teases as he leaves a soft kiss below her ear. <And, what is it that you’ll do for me in return?>

Cordelia pulls herself from beneath him. It’s the perfect time to get her focus back. She’s thankful he asked; how far would she have gone if he didn’t?

<I understand that this is a hard sell, but...> She takes a deep breath. <I need you to tell me who’s behind this war, and how we can find them.>

The Octoling doesn’t look surprised. In fact, he looks disappointed. <I can’t tell you that.>

<I get that it’s a conflict of interest, but…> She can’t believe she’s doing this. She guides his hand underneath her dress. The mere act excites her; she should have known she was hopeless. Her eyes lower as she notices that his lip twitches. <I’m willing to make it worth your time.>

<I don’t know who’s behind this.> Cordelia senses he’s telling the truth. She also feels that if he did, he wouldn’t tell her. His disgruntled look confirms that suspicion. However, his hand does remain on her thigh.

<What can you tell me?> At this point, she’d accept anything.

<For that, I need your part of the bargain first.> He lifts his hand from beneath her dress. He pulls her forward as his free hand unzips the back of her dress from the top down. Cordelia freezes as she sees both her and the Octoling’s reflection in the large paned window in the living room.

Cordelia moves from her spot on the settee and encourages the Octoling to do the same.

<How about we pull the reigns back for a bit.> Was it because Cordelia’s reflection made her uncomfortable, or was she having second thoughts? Her head screams for her to use this as an opportunity to call Marie and let her know what was going on, but the body, no. The body didn’t care about an impending war; or, information that could save her city.

It wanted _him_.  

<Did you change your mind?> The Octoling asks, removing his hands from her. This would have been the perfect time to call it quits, but…

<Tell me everything that you can.> Cordelia’s the one to ease her body onto his, facing him as she sits on his lap. She places her arms around his neck. Her thoughts cry for her to stop talking, but instinct interferes. <If you will, I’m yours for tonight.>

<W-what?> His brows raise as his mouth gapes. Considering that not even an hour ago, the two were at ends with each other, Cordelia should have been surprised too, but she wasn’t. She can hate herself for it later.

<I more than accept that offer.> He supports her rear as he lifts her from the settee. Cordelia secures her legs around his hips as she whispers where her room door is. Elation fills her being as she feels the familiar sheets of her bed greet her back. He lightly pulls the dress from her body; Cordelia finding it amusing in the moment that she only wore it for a total of ten minutes. A matching set of undergarments would have implied that she was planning for this encounter; Cordelia’s thankful that these ones were purple. If they were black, it would have made her seem dirty. This is the first time she’s entertained the same man two days in a row. She’d judge herself later for it.

He grins at the sight of her. He says nothing, instead unzipping his jacket. He places it on the floor, but Cordelia doesn’t notice. His toned abs lined by his deeply tanned skin; her eyes are dazzled by how her bedroom light highlights the curvature of his torso. He climbs onto the bed as he tops her, a hand making its way to the front of her bra, unclipping it with a single pull.

<It’s pretty, but I want it gone.> He whispers as he helps her slide it off. Why is it now that embarrassment seeps through her being? Was it because she wasn’t used to exposing herself like _this_ , or that he couldn’t stop ogling her.

<Hey…> her cheeks turn an ugly red. <Don’t stare; that’s rude.>

<Is it?> He leans his chest on top of hers as he pats the top of her head. <I don’t think you understand how beautiful you are.>

 _God_ , why is he saying that?! As flattering as that was, Cordelia’s never been a looker. In fact, she was quite average as far as Inklings were concerned. Her family was slightly unusual in that they sported pale yellow tentacles at birth instead of the vibrant colorful tentacles that were seen elsewhere, but Cordelia couldn’t stand being associated with them. So, the minute she could, she adapted her ink to green; to keep her own identity. The only stunning thing about her was how she applied her makeup. However, others would agree that simply being a Firthe made her outstanding. 

<Cordelia, I’m not lying.> He stares directly into her eyes. <I’ve never been so entranced in all of my life.>

 _No. Don’t do that!_ Now wasn’t the time to be sentimental. She breaks it by instinctively kissing him. She wasn’t going to allow her mind to be seduced, either. She liked it the way it was. Skeptical.

The Octoling doesn’t seem to mind as he follows her lead. His warm skin against hers makes her heart flutter. Elation comes from the realization that his hand is trailing downwards. The silk fabric of her undies tickles her skin as he glides them down her leg. It doesn’t hit Cordelia that now she’s fully exposed, but her attention to detail was lacking at this moment. A detail she doesn’t miss, however, his cool finger lingers around her sweet spot, teasing her with each movement. God, she could _kill_ him for how slow he’s moving it. Yet it’s exhilarating all the same. Her face shows confliction; causing the Octoling to laugh as he allows another finger to slip its way inside her. She jerks at the movement as he knows exactly where to play with her. Her back arches as pleasure swirls inside her. Moans escape her lips as heat enraptures her body.

She feels him retract as she lifts up her head to investigate. Her eyes lock on his hips as he slides the leather fabric down his toned legs; he was fabulously proportioned. She blinks in disbelief but notices the Octoling’s amusement soon after. He can tell she likes what he sees. In this moment; she’s thankful her weakness is finely sculpted men.

He lowers himself to her level, his movements gentle as he settles himself between her legs. She gasps; but not from entering her. His finger still teases her sweet spot as he moves inside her. Cordelia’s breathing becomes irregular as the urge to grab something—anything—was overpowering her. She settles for her headboard as he (and his hand) work his magic. Her heart flutters like mad as she bites her lip. He’s deep inside her when her body’s reached its limit; ecstasy pulses through her frame. Her gasps become laboured as she crosses her legs around him, trapping him within her. Her back arches; forcing his body against hers as she lets out a final moan before throwing her head back in gratification. She’s sensitive against his touch as his own rhythm increases. An indulgent moan leaves his lips as he wraps both arms around Cordelia, forcefully pressing her back against the sheets. It doesn’t take long for her to follow; bliss erupting within her a second time, matching his release. Her gasp is loud, but she doesn't care. How good his warmness felt within her.

Cordelia’s thoughts whirl as her hands lie on the Octoling’s back. He remains on top of her; breathless, and satisfied. How he could top their first encounter was beyond her.

<Careful, Cordelia.> He says as he breaks contact, gently moving himself out of her. He lays next to her; his torso glistening from their encounter. He says breathlessly, <This is hella addicting.>

She huffs. <Whose fault is that?>

<Yours.> He purrs. <You’re delightfully easy to satisfy.>

No, she wasn’t, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He just knew what to do. She rolls her eyes as she moves away from him to get up, but he pulls her back. <You said that you were mine for the night, which means you’re staying right here.>

Cordelia doesn’t argue. If she were to be honest, she likes the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around her. And, why spoil a good thing?

<You better not leave this time.> Cordelia says.

<I have no desire to.> He says as he lightly kisses her neck. <Especially when you taste so good.> She feels his hands wander between her thighs. She gasps when she feels his hand play with her once more.

 

The room shimmers with a sliver of the morning sun, touching Cordelia’s nose with its warm radiance. Her eyes open to familiarity; comfort. She feels a great deal of warmth around her shoulder and chest; the Octoling’s arm is draped around her. Cordelia smiles a wry smile; she couldn’t _ever_ forget the night she just had. It was unexpected that she’d fall asleep so quickly after the magic he had performed on her. Judging by the evening she had, Cordelia's not surprised she passed out. 

She takes a couple of minutes to savour this embrace; hopefully, he wouldn’t notice if she leaned into his chest. There’s no doubt that it feels better to let the body lead. His rich hum of contentment lets her know that yes, he has noticed. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pulls her closer to him.

A warmness flows through her body. Cordelia feels her mind wanting to intervene; it’s too risky to veer off track. But dammit, Cordelia needed something out of this. He strokes her head with his other hand as he decides to speak.

<I could get used to this.> He purrs.

So could she. She bites her lip as she feels her thoughts take over. Instead, she refuses to speak, allowing herself to wrap her arm around him. She places her head on his chest as she snuggles into his side; she’d question him shortly. A gasp of surprise, then a laugh is heard from the Octoling as he reciprocates.

<It seems you agree with me.> She can hear his smile. And, the soft rhythm of his heartbeat. It almost lulls her back to sleep, but instead, she retorts.

<You know the deal.> Cordelia speaks for the first time. She smiles as she speaks, even if her voice doesn’t indicate it. <You owe me _big time_. >

<Of course.> She feels his hand stroke the side of her waist. <I know I said you were mine for last night, but I decided to extend it until this morning. You’re not allowed to leave this bed until I tell you to.>

She lets out a sigh before answering him. <Alright, but you’ll have to make up for it.> She feels him nod as his hand now cups the bottom of her rear. <And not like _that_. >

<I was being good, I promise.> There’s that grin.

Cordelia rolls her eyes as she allows herself to look at the Octoling. Her heart nearly skips a beat when she sees his relaxed, gentle eyes on her. She can’t help but reveal a gentle smile. He was making her _melt_. He gestures her to lie on his stomach as he helps her up. The brisk coolness on her skin is uncomfortable until he wraps his arms around her. His smile grows soft as he closes his eyes. Cordelia draws closer to him, guiding his head with her hands as she gives him a gentle kiss. He responds in kind.

<You are deadly, Cordelia.> He whispers.

<So are you.> She breathes back.

He pulls her onto him as he devours her mouth. Cordelia gasps when he suddenly turns her on her back as a renewed sparkle glints in his eyes. She knows what he wants.

He eyes Cordelia as he waits for her approval. A simple grin from her lips was all he needed. 

 

<What does an Octoling eat for breakfast?> Cordelia searches through her fridge. Donned in the grey dress from last night, she saw no reason not to re-wear it. Considering she wore it for ten minutes ...no thanks to the Octoling. She searches through her near-empty fridge. Her guest is sitting next to the island counter-top. 

 _< Cute Inkling girls.> _He says with a deliciousness she can’t ignore. Did he always have to make it about that?

<You mean to tell me you’re not hungry?> Cordelia feels famished; her only meal was the popcorn from the movies. She could make some toast with a side of eggs. But that was too much work, she wanted to eat _now_. She closes the fridge and grabs some cereal from the top cupboard. _Squid O’s_ , a simple childhood cereal that Cordelia discovered when she moved out. With its sugary taste and colorful exterior, It’s a favourite she will never care to ditch.

<Oh, I am always hungry.> Cordelia rolls her eyes.

<You’re getting cereal.> She points the box at him. <My end of the deal is over.>

<Mhmm…>

His smirk encourages a sigh to escape her lips as she grabs two bowls from the cupboard. She fills them quickly as she grabs milk from the fridge. She places the bowls on the counter as he stares at one idly. He takes the first bowl that she pours cereal into and stuffs a few kernels in his mouth.

<I didn’t get the milk.> She glowers. She didn’t want to believe he was a _no_ milk kind of guy.

<Don’t need it.> He proceeds to stuff the handfuls in his mouth. Cordelia raises a brow as she sees him wasting no time emptying the bowl. Not that it was her business, but had he eaten since he escaped the containment centre? Something in her gut tells her that he hadn’t. Cordelia pours some into her bowl before pushing the box of cereal in his direction  He could finish the box if he wanted to.

Cordelia sits down, watching the Octoling as he pours more _Squid O’s_ in his bowl. She finishes her own milk doused cereal before pushing her bowl aside. Cordelia wasn’t sure how she was going to broach the conversation with him. How much would he be willing to share with her, and, would his information be true? He hasn’t lied before, but he _has_ held out on her. A pit hits her stomach forms when she realizes that she would have to inform the Agents …and once that happens.

She might never see him again.

Cordelia grits her teeth at the realization. God damn it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She tilts her head to stare at the Octoling. She had to remind herself, he was not on her side. Yes, he had more going for him than she had realized. The fact he was an Elite was something she couldn't ignore. By definition, he was an Enemy Octarian Officer. Cordelia grips the cool granite counter-top. After this, there were no deals she could strike with him.

 _Cordelia, get a hold of yourself! You’ve only known him a couple of days!_ She tells herself, but in the last three days, a lot has happened. It’s been frustrating, but an exhilarating stream of events. She takes a deep breath, composing herself before a compelling urge to cry overtakes her.

 _Stupid girl_.

Cordelia’s got no defences as she feels a stream of tears running down her cheeks. She does her best to wipe them away, but her skin isn’t as absorbent. She lunges from her seat before scurrying to the bathroom. Hopefully, the Octoling didn’t notice her tearful exit. She dabs her face in a towel as she takes a look in the mirror. Oh _god_. Her face was a blubbering mess, Her tentacles were in disarray and her mascara was smudged underneath her eyes. The way he looked at her this morning; he saw something she clearly didn’t. Cordelia stomps a foot in frustration. This was absolutely moronic.

What a piss-poor Agent she was turning out to be. She had a responsibility to uphold. She had to ignore the idea that she could get to know the Octoling better. She had to grow up. Cordelia looks at herself in the mirror a final time before turning on the tap. She grabs a nearby facecloth and dips it under the tap. She cleans her eyes and eliminates the redness from her face. She adjusts her tentacles into a (somewhat) neater bun. Delightfully plain, but, at least clean. Cordelia allows herself to take a deep breath before she leaves the bathroom. She had to stop stalling. With a final breath, Cordelia leaves the room and sees the Octoling up from his chair. He eyes her curiously.

<Have a seat.> She makes a strong gesture to the settee. The Octoling (surprisingly) does as he’s told. Cordelia studies his face, unsure what she wanted to ask him.

<I’m not going to lie to you.> His words appear earnest. She can appreciate that.

<You told me that you were here to retrieve Marina.> He doesn’t break eye contact with her. <What were your plans after that?>

He breaks eye contact with her. <To go back to Octo Canyon and return to my post.>

<Who gave you those orders?> Cordelia immediately asks.

<I don’t know.> The Octoling frowns. <None of the Elites know who it is.>

He did mention he didn't know who was behind the war; maybe it was the same Octarian who was giving him his orders. He must be telling the truth. 

A few more minutes pass before he breaks the silence. <Our military general, the one you took down, who kidnapped the idol. I can't even utter his name; that’s how incompetent he is. We had enough, and decided to take matters into our own hands. Like I said, I’m not sure who’s behind the orders, but I was transmitted instructions to bring Marina back to headquarters. Until, your Agent 2 imprisoned me.>

<Yes, I’m aware of that.>

<They could have radioed Marina. It was shown she still had her radio transmitter. But, when she didn’t respond, they chose to send me instead. I was to pose as a new visitor to town, and _hope_ , that someone could get me in to meet Marina. But Agent 2 took my gear and, you know the rest.>

<So, you sleep with me and wait until I pass out before you hatched your escape plan...?> Cordelia’s steel blue eyes show a need for resolution. 

<That wasn't the plan.> He pauses. <All I knew is that I was going to be beat up by some Inklings who couldn’t understand me, no matter what I said. I didn’t expect them to bring in a translator ….especially who could speak my language—and—be as delectable as you. The last thing I wanted to do was leave, but I can't do a thing when I'm locked up.>

Cordelia bites her lip. She didn’t expect an Elite to be as delectable either.   

The Octoling continues, <I was planning to escape the minute those Agent types left the premises. Before I met you.>

 Cordelia feels an oncoming blush.

<It was hard to believe you were the same Agent who infiltrated our base.> He looks to the side as he says, <I had to escape while you were asleep. I had no other choice. I left you a letter explaining my plan, but I’m assuming the Agents took it before you had a chance to see it.>

The letter that Pearl translated for her… Right, it had said that he would come back for her. She didn’t understand what that meant, but she’s beginning to fit it all together.

<You said in that letter that you were coming back for me?> Cordelia feels her face redden slightly. 

<Yes, I told you to meet me near the grate outside of that Skatepark area. It’s a pathway to Octo Canyon that works only one way.>

Cordelia’s thoughts jump to Pearl immediately. That was the one detail the frosted tip Inkling left out—and no doubt took it upon herself to free Marina herself. 

<I had someone translate the letter for me, they cared to leave that part out.> Cordelia witnesses his face change to what she was surprised to see as embarrassment. Yeah, she was embarrassed too.

<I thought you could read Octarian.> He says quietly. <Or I wouldn’t have written what I did...> He crosses his arms. <I’m guessing your translator was selective on what they shared with you.>

<I’m afraid so.> She frowns.

<Who did you show it to?>

His eyes bore into hers. Hey, she wasn’t the one that was expected to answer _his_ questions. It’s the other way around.

<I can’t say, but it isn’t anyone who’d compromise your plans.> Pearl’s main concern was finding Marina, or at least Cordelia _hopes_ that was her only motive.

<You going to tell me _why_ you wanted me to meet you at BlackBelly Skatepark? >

<I know that the droids are made from a composition of living things. What exactly, I’m not sure, but I know where the research lab is. They won’t even let an Elite like me inside, unless I had something to offer them.>

Cordelia has a feeling she’s not going to like what he says next.

<I was going to ask you to pose as a captive. I could hand you over to the lab and then go through their files, see what I can find. After, you could help me destroy the facility.>

<Hold on, _hold on!_ > Cordelia’s not following correctly. If she was, she would have thought the Octoling had asked her to go to Octo Canyon’s Research Facility and _destroy_ it. Why the hell would he want to destroy one of their own facilities? That’s where they’re making the drones that could win them this war!

<Why do you want to sabotage your own kind?>

<Droids are not the way to win.> The Octoling sighs. <If we did take over Inkopolis with soulless beings…> He visibly shudders. <I can’t explain it all right now, but, the benefit is that if we destroy the facility, we’re taking out an entire division of soldiers, buying you and the Agents time.>

This was not what she was expecting.

He stands up as he offers his hand to her. <Are you in?>

Cordelia stares at him, then his hand.

She doesn’t know what to do.


	10. Chapter 10

Cordelia stares at his outstretched hand.

The green haired Inkling judges herself as soon as his eyes meet hers. Moments ago, she just shed tears because she didn’t want him to leave. And now, he was asking her to join him. In a way, it was perfect that he asked. Her heart jumps at the thought, however, it falls as she’s reminded of what that’d mean.

He was asking her to pose as a captive, which would likely mean all weapons of defence would be stripped from her. Not only that but if any of the Octarians recognized that she was Agent 4 …she shudders. She proved to be powerless in hand to hand combat with the Octoling; how would she fare against Octarians who _would_ hurt her? Unarmed, not very well, she admits to herself.

Another question: Why wait so long to bring this up? If he’d requested her help in that letter, why wait until now? Unless he too had second thoughts—their verbal quarrel wasn’t gentle by any means. Considering they well have passed the make-up point, he may have decided to give her another chance. 

But no, this plan was absurd. She understands his concerns about lifeless drones running around at will, but to directly sabotage the Octarian’s almost guaranteed method of preparation? That’s the part she didn’t get. Why not just let it happen, then deal with the consequences? At that point, the Octarians would have secured Inkopolis—then they could deal with the drones as they saw fit.

 _God_ , what was she thinking? See? Cordelia thinks to herself. This is why she’s confused. None of this made sense.

<Cordelia?> He lowers his hand.

<I can’t make a decision without informing the Agents.> That part she wouldn’t budge on. Speaking of, she should really check that secure line of hers. As important as that reminder was, it’d have to wait. Figuring this out took priority.

Cordelia continues, <To go down to Octo Canyon—and expose myself like this—I can’t trust you on your word alone. It wouldn’t be smart.>

The Octoling crosses his arms as he looks to the ceiling. <I’d say there’s no rush, but that’d be a lie. Our encounter with them at the shipyard proves that they're already here.> He closes his eyes. <I do understand where you're coming from. By principle, it’d be the perfect set-up.>

<Yes …yes it would.> She glowers. <Attempting to convince me that it’s for _Inkopolis’ greater good_ would be a waste of your time, and mine. >

<It’s not a lie. It would greatly benefit you to have the lab out of commission.> He opens his eyes again. <But, I have no desire to thwart you, Cordelia. You have to understand that by now.>

 _Ugh_. Her memories can’t lie. He had many opportunities to off her, and, he didn’t. He could have been withholding to build her trust. She wants to believe him. 

<We haven’t been alone on your turf. Who’s to say that you’d remain civil?>

<Cordelia, I have much more use for you, _alive_. > The way his voice hangs on that sentence. <Don’t make me prove to you again why that is.>

Cordelia hates how her gut twinges with anticipation. He _just_ admitted to her that he was using her for his own pleasures—the reason he kept her alive... It deeply angers her that those very words excited her to the core. This was the most entangled, messed up situation she’s ever put herself in. Cordelia was the very definition of shameless. A slave to her own flesh, as her mother once said.

<That’s enough out of you.> She growls. <Enough with your mind games. You are going to clean yourself up.> Her finger is outstretched; the Octoling’s lips curve in amusement. <I want you to meet with Agent 2 before I agree to anything, and don’t argue with me.>

His grin remains. He had to have selective hearing, there was no way he didn’t hear what she said. She would soon learn her guess was wrong.

<If that’s the case, then I might have to ask you to—> he grabs the collar of her dress and pulls her closer, <—come with me.>

It was _hot_ how forward he was, Cordelia admits to herself as her face grows warm. No matter how alluring she found the idea, she had to keep focused. She wasn’t going to fall for his wiles this time.

She promptly yanks her collar out of his grip. She says a firm <No.>  

<What if I decide to escape through the window?> The Octoling raises a brow. <Or escape through the drain?>

<You must think very little of me to assume you could fit through a teeny drain pipe.> Cordelia rolls her eyes. <And we’re on the 12th floor. Yes, you could survive the jump but something tells me you’re not going to risk being seen out in public after yesterday’s drone sightings.>

The Octoling cocks his head; he examines her for a moment. She feels the heat of his stare.

<Go!> She points her arm in the direction of the bathroom. To her surprise, he does as he’s told. He heard her correctly, _right?_ Considering he threatened to escape through her bathroom window, Cordelia knows he heard the words Agent and 2. But, he also enjoyed his mind games, something she was growing accustomed to… and liking _very_ much.

Cordelia groans as soon as she hears the bathroom door shut. How was it possible to have so many emotions at once? No. She can hate herself later. While the Octoling was occupied, this would be the perfect opportunity to call Marie. Cordelia hurries to her room and searches through her bag. The secure line is there—as well as 30 missed calls.

Shit

_SHIT!_

Cordelia flips open the phone and dials Marie right away.

“Cordelia! Where the _hell_ have you been!?” Cordelia has to hold the phone away from her ear. “I thought you were kidnapped!”

“No, I was _occupied_.” She doesn’t need to see her tousled sheets as a reminder of _why_ Marie’s calls weren’t answered. “But I’m happy you called because I—“

“—Your stuff was found all over Sturgeon Shipyard last night. I thought those awful things took you. Held you hostage, something! How am I supposed to explain to your family that you were taken under my care?” Her voice breaks. It almost sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. “I walked to your apartment and hammered on your door for ten solid minutes! I was up all night… You better have some good explanation for why you were ignoring my calls.”

“I do, I promise.” Cordelia speaks in a soft voice. “You know I can handle myself.”

“You were unarmed.” She hears Marie take a deep breath on the other line.  

“Marie, please. Just listen.” Cordelia’s touched, and feels a twinge of guilt. She didn’t know Marie cared that much about her. “I have urgent news and it's too big to share over the phone. Can you meet me in an hour?”

“Do you want me to come over, or…”

Cordelia pauses. It might be a better idea for Marie to arrive at her place. She couldn’t guarantee the Octoling’s cooperation otherwise. “Yeah, please.”

“Alright.” She pauses, then, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks. Sorry.” Cordelia adds before Marie hangs up. For Marie to assume that the _things_ took her, she must have been talking about the drones. She shudders. Thinking about them made her skin crawl.  

Cordelia lies back on her bed as she listens to the shower run. How was she going to explain this to Marie? She didn’t have to tell her _everything_ , but would she have her suspicions? No, she wouldn’t, because she’d be distracted by the Octoling’s plan. He’d have no choice but to stay; and, Marie could take him if he became a problem. There was nothing to worry about. She looks at her surroundings. It was wise to make her bed. Cordelia throws the white crimped cover over her bed, taking great care in fluffing her pillows. She wanted her room to be pristine. Like nothing had happened.

Ugh. Who _was_ Cordelia trying to convince?

Almost a half an hour passes. In that time, Cordelia has freshened herself up, while assuring her mascara was on point. After wiping away a stray lash, she realizes something.

The shower was still running.

No. There’s no way the Octoling could have escaped through the bathroom window. Also, the ink in that splattershot wouldn’t be enough to ensure a smooth departure. Especially if it was imbued with acid. Cordelia makes her way to the bathroom, making sure she doesn't draw attention. She places her hand carefully on the door handle  and turns it. 

To her surprise, it’s unlocked.

Cordelia allows the steam to escape the door. To her relief, she sees a tall silhouette behind the curtain. She closes the door immediately. She's thankful he didn’t notice.  

Cordelia heads to the living room to clean up the dishes. She places them in the dishwasher as _finally_ , the water stops running. She makes her way to the living room and sees that both the splattershot and the holster are still there. It may be a good idea if Marie could get the ink tested.  She hears the bathroom door open as she hears wet footsteps.

<That was the best shower of my life!> His grin is wide as a sole towel is wrapped around his waist. Moist droplets line the definition of his chest deliciously _…_

 _CORDELIA!_ She breathes. She has to focus.

<I’d advise clothes.> Cordelia looks away. <Considering I’m about to have a house guest shortly, I’d rather you be appropriately dressed.>

<Are you sure? Maybe your Agent 2 wouldn’t mind a bit of casual dress.>

<If you mean by wearing what you arrived in, sure. Not whatever you’re thinking.>

<I’ll be decent.> He sighs. <Even if it means that I have to be near  _her_. >

<She really did you in, didn’t she?> It amuses Cordelia that he’s bitter. It made perfect sense as to why, yet seeing him bothered like this—it was so unusual she had to savour it. <I’m surprised you didn't escape.>

<Believe me, I would if I wasn't serious about this. I'd also tear that bitch’s limbs off for what she did. But.> He crosses his arms as he studies her expression. <I can’t deny admitting that I need your help more.>

He sits down on the settee. He motions for her to come over, but she folds her arms instead. She purses her lips as she looks at the ground.

<If you were upset about what I said last night…>

<Upset?> Was he referring to their argument? She was annoyed, but not upset. She understood why there was tension. 

Cordelia shakes her head. <I was the one who apologized, so I’m over it.>

<You were crying.> He says flatly.  

<W-what?!> Cordelia flushes instantly. <I-I… How dare you assume something like that!> She couldn’t deny that she cried, but to think he thought it had to do with him …he’d be totally right, but he wasn’t supposed to know that!

<Don’t do it again.>

She narrows her eyes. <If I want to cry, I’ll bloody well cry. You can’t tell me what to do.> _Bastard._   

<Not around me you won’t.>

God, she never thought the Octoling would remind her of her mother. For that, he was going to get it. <You are _not_ in the position to demand orders, Octoling. > Her words drip with disdain. 

<I’m not dealing with it, Cordelia. It churns my gut to look at you when you’re in that state.> He stands up and walks toward her. No, not this again... Cordelia wants to back away but she allows him to embrace her. <I’ll be damned if I’m the cause of it.> 

W-what was he saying?! Cordelia’s heart hammers. She closes her eyes as she feels her gut dance with excitement and glee. Her face is hot with embarrassment. She wants to slap him for saying such a thing. Both remain silent for a minute before she feels his warm, gentle hand rub her back. Instinctively, she leans her head on his chest. There’s that heartbeat again. Cordelia curses herself for allowing her heart to interfere. Yet, this felt nice.

Really nice.

<That’s really not necessary.> Cordelia says quietly.

<It is.>

No. _No!_   Cordelia goes to speak, but her voice halts. Butterflies… oh _god_. Anything but the butterflies. She breaks from his contact immediately. She can’t deal with this. 

<Did I speak out of turn?> He asks with a hint of concern.

<I’m just confused, is all.> She crosses her arms as she turns away. <You said I destitute Octo Canyon, that I stripped it of its resources. Then you say… _that!_ I just don’t understand. >

< _Dammit_ Cordelia, I’ve tried to be patient but I don’t think I can. > He says in a louder tone than before. <How do you think I feel?>

<Whatever you’re about to say, _don’t_. > Cordelia warns. <You and I are working together, temporarily.> She would not allow herself to be swept away by his words. She recalls Pearl’s warning— _when an Octoling takes a liking to you, they don’t waste time_. Afterwards, Pearl said something about a kidnapping, but that wasn’t likely. If anything, she was the one who was holding him hostage.

<I’m calling bullshit.> He moves into her line of sight. <I know you’re interested in me.>

Cordelia inhales sharply. How dare he accuse her of that!  <That’s a dangerous assumption, _Octoling_. >

She feels the butterflies again. He moves closer as Cordelia feels his warm hand on her back. He pulls her forward; she doesn’t back away. God, he’s right. She _is_ into him. He pulls her into his embrace; his mouth encapsulates her own. His slick tongue whirls around hers. He lifts her into his arms, leaning her against the center beam of the living room. His warm, moist skin tingles against her thighs. 

<See?> His voice is deliciously low. <I know you’re into me.>

<I am not.> Cordelia huffs.

<Yet, here you are in my arms.> His lips barely touch. They lock eyes for a moment; a harsh knock on the door breaks Cordelia and the Octoling from their embrace. He places her down gently, giving enough time for Cordelia to collect herself. Her first thought; she’s amazed that towel stayed around his waist.

<Get dressed— _now_. > She demands. To her relief, he does as he’s told. She’s relieved he’s not messing around. Cordelia prays she doesn’t look too messed up.

She answers the door to see Marie dressed in a similar outfit to yesterday, sporting a yellow striped tee instead. On her shoulder sits a deep purple handbag. 

<Hello—erm.> “I mean, _hello_ , Agent 2.” Cordelia coughs to negate attention to her Octarian slip-up.

“Agent 4.” She eyes Cordelia curiously. “You’re …redder than usual. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, just caught me off guard, that’s all.” She’s not lying. “Come in, _come in!”_

Marie eyes the premises as she sits down. She picks up the splattershot and studies it. “This looks like a turf weapon. Don’t tell me _this_ is why you were ignoring my calls. I’d have understood if you were in a match.” Marie teases. 

“No, it’s not that.” She grimaces as Marie’s gold eyes gleamed with curiosity. 

“No way…” She trails off. “You found him.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “Good job, Agent 4.”

“Thanks.” Judging by her voice, at least he was fully clothed. Thank _god_ she wasn’t suspicious. His eyes narrow as he sits in the chair, farthest from where Marie was sitting. Cordelia prays for a swift conclusion. 

“He doesn’t look happy to see me.” She raises her brows, amused. “I understand why you wanted me to come over."  She eyes him again, as his expression visibly sours. “He seems …tamer than I remember.”

<I expect you to cooperate.> Cordelia warns the Octoling. 

<As long as _she_ does, I will. > He frowns. Cordelia rolls her eyes. Thank the heavens him and Marie can’t speak the same language.

“Thank you for coming.” Cordelia sits in the chair next to the Octoling. “Last night while you were investigating, I went to Sturgeon Shipyard and encountered some Octolings—which looked like drones, similar to your observations a couple of days back. They had me outnumbered, and it was thanks to the Elite that I was able to escape.”

 “Well, that’s confusing.” Marie frowns as she stokes her chin. “The Octoling wasn’t with them?”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“I see.” Marie’s folds her hands together. “So you made it from Sturgeon Shipyard to your place without much trouble?”

“Yes. It took a bit of coercing to get him to follow, but as you can see I managed.” His current pout reminds her of last night when he was sulking about their argument. Cordelia feels a pang in her gut; she doesn’t want to give Marie the impression that she and the Octoling have had any more …arrangements, so to speak.

“Can I get you anything, a glass of water, tea?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Marie nods. “But I do want to know why you waited so long to tell me. I thought we had an agreement.” She can tell Marie’s gold eyes were laced with worry. She didn’t need to repeat herself. She didn't need to say anything for Cordelia to understand. 

“It was a late night, as I said. He passed out on the settee and me in my own chambers.” Damn, she didn’t need to sound so stiff about it. “I was so tired I forgot to call.”

“I’m relieved.” Her breaths are soft. “I don't know how I would have told your mother...”

Her mother? Cordelia jeers. “Considering she _forced_ you to babysit me, I’m not surprised.” She doesn’t want to recall _that_ memory. “I’ve known her for nineteen years and I can’t stand talking to her.”

“Not that I want to linger on this topic, but Agent 4…” She leans in. “Your mother does care about you. She only did what she thought was best—I mean, you were pretty unruly.”

“How much did she pay you to say that?” Cordelia scoffs. “I assure you she did it to torture me.”

“She doesn’t know you’re the Agent we sent to Octo Canyon. If she did, she’d have my head.” Marie stresses. 

As much fun as it was to discuss her mother… “Agent 2… The Octoling shared a detail with me that I think you should hear.”

“Go on?”

“Do you remember how you found the drones, or at least I assume you did…” Cordelia begins.

“Yes, Agent 1 and I had to think fast—we got the Special Forces involved with the disposal. One of them we took in for sampling.” She can tell by Marie’s face that the memory disturbed her.  

“The Octoling knows where the Research Facility is. He says that’s where the drones are made.”

“What!?” Marie gasps. “He told you that?”

“He did, but.”

“ _But…”_ Marie doesn’t look amused. “He wants something in exchange for it.”

Not exactly... Cordelia inwardly sighs. 

"No, he doesn't."

“Am I supposed to expect he's doing this out of charity?"  Marie raises a brow. "Call me skeptical, but I don't believe it." 

“Here’s the thing…” Cordelia doesn’t know how to phrase this in a way that Marie would understand. She takes a deep breath. 

“He wants to destroy the facility, with _my_ help.” She can see Marie’s mouth open but Cordelia decides to speak over her. “He asked me to act as his prisoner and he would take me to the facility. When we got inside, he said he would let me gather whatever I needed, and afterwards, we could decimate the entire perimeter.”

Marie remains silent as she closes her eyes. Her brows furrow in thought. Cordelia doesn’t blame the white haired Inkling for her skepticism.

<She better not be talking about me...> The Octoling mumbles in Marie’s silence. Cordelia encourages him to shush.

 “It sounds like he wants to give you up.” Marie crosses her arms in speculation. “It’s the perfect diversion—lure you in with the promise of victory. What if it fails? You get captured, possibly tortured.”

“I know.” Cordelia understands the risks. But, her gut tells her she can trust the Octoling. He wouldn’t put her in harm’s way. Was she foolish to believe that? She probably was. “I think I’d like to try.”   

“I see.” Marie's expression is pained. “You understand that I can’t in good conscience let you go down to Octo Canyon, unarmed, into their Research Facility. There’s still no guarantee that he wouldn’t turn you in. I’m sure Agent 4 would fetch a high reward. We still don’t even know why he’s willing to do it.”

“He told me that he doesn’t want Inkopolis to be overrun with lifeless Octolings.” 

“There would be incentive to wipe out any defiant bodies if they could be easily replaced.” She turns to look at the Octoling. “But I thought Octolings were primed to take orders from their superiors? Why create drones in the first place?”

“I don’t know.” Cordelia didn’t know enough about the Octarian culture to say. That would be a fantastic question to ask him.

“Let me see if he’ll talk.” Cordelia turns to the Octoling. <I need you to answer this, so listen carefully. Why would the Octarians need drones when most of your kind take orders without question?>

He groans. <That was because our military general hypno-waved us, so we had no will of our own. Drones don’t need that kind of manipulation; they’ll do whatever they’re programmed to do.>

She wasn’t expecting him to be so compliant.

<So they’re like robots.> Cordelia hums.

“What did he say?” Marie pipes up.

“He said they’re like organic robots—you can program them to do whatever you want without the need to hypnotize them.”

“I still don’t get why he’d want them destroyed.”

“He told me he couldn’t tell me why.” Which, wouldn’t sell Marie on the idea. In fact, it’d make him look even more suspicious. “But, I think I should do it.”

“Agent 4.” Marie’s not happy.

Cordelia pauses. She needed to spin this the right way. “If I succeed, I could access some prime intelligence that we could use, and, destroy a facility housing dangerous combatants. That alone is worth the risk.”

“It’s not worth your life.” Marie’s voice softens. “When I though the Octarians took you…”  

The Octoling interrupts. <What is she saying? Tell me.>

<Stop it! She’s not done.> Cordelia hisses.

“Don’t mind him. He’s impatient.” Cordelia eyes the Octoling before bringing her attention back to Marie. “I know it’s dangerous. But… I feel like I can trust him.”

“How do you know for certain?”

Cordelia can’t tell Marie _why_ without risking her reputation. If she knew that Cordelia willingly slept with this man, she’s afraid Marie would think the worst of her. Funny, three days ago she wouldn’t have cared. But now… Cordelia groans.

“4, what are you leaving out?”

“I don’t know how to say this, but…” Cordelia prays this will be a swift resolution. “He told me that he wouldn’t double-cross me, and …I believe him.”

Marie’s lips purse together as she studies the sulking Octoling. “He _likes_ you, and that’s what you’re basing this on?” She’s skeptical. Honestly, Cordelia doesn’t blame her. She’d have been shocked if Marie accepted that as fact. “But, he did save you from the drones …I guess.”

“I feel like he’d keep to his word.” She doesn’t explain that he had her in a chokehold, and could have killed her with the acid filled splattershot—wait a moment! That’s it! Cordelia gets off the couch and points to the splattershot. “See? He took that from one of the drones and he could have used it on me. He didn’t, and you’ll notice he doesn’t have it near him.”

“You don’t expect me to believe that this alone would make me trust him…?” Marie stares at the weapon.

Why does Cordelia feel defensive all of a sudden? Marie said her piece, and she didn’t want Cordelia to go. She can understand that. “Do I get a say in the matter?”

“Agent 4. I can’t tell you what to do. I’d appreciate if you listened to reason, but…” Marie sighs. “If you’re set on doing this, I can’t stop you.” She looks at the Octoling. “I’ll want to make sure he’s accountable.”

Accountable? How was she going to do that?

“I don’t know, I’m sure you’ll think of something. Bribe him, or…well, _however_ you decide to do it is up to you.” _Not helping_. “Just promise me you’re not going to leave without making sure you’re well prepared.”

“Of course not.” Cordelia nods. She had to mention Pearl's disappearance while she had the chance. “But …about Pearl.”

“Right… that reminds me.” Marie pulls a few contents out of her handbag. She places Cordelia’s missing items (including her phone—it had a notable crack on the screen protector) on the table. “I have suspicions Pearl wasn’t as trustworthy as she led us to believe?" 

“She left parts of The Octoling’s letter out. He gave directions to a grate near BlackBelly Skatepark that was a one-way entrance to Octo Canyon. I think Pearl went after Marina herself.”

“Figures… I knew something was off about her.” Marie frowns. “And we have nothing on the Rainmaker either.” Marie sighs. “I know the trip may shed some light on these issues, but Cordelia, _are you sure_ he’s trustworthy?

“Yes.” She hopes that she didn’t say the wrong thing. “I believe he is.”

 “I still don’t like this, but.” Marie shakes her head. “Can I get your word that you won't let him escape a second time?" 

"Of course not." Cordelia groans. “It'd be in my best interest to make him comfortable; he might be loose-lipped and let something slip, you know?”

“4. As long as you’re okay with this, I have no judgments.”

Cordelia gives the white haired Inkling a disapproving look. 

“I’m letting you know I’m not judging you.” Marie stands up. “But I’m not going to outstay my welcome. I can feel him staring daggers at me. Can the two of you meet at the base later, and we’ll go over some ground rules before we start the mission.” Marie adds, “But if he starts acting weird, I want you to call me right away. I have no problem taking him down a second time.” Her grin indicates she wouldn’t _mind_ that interaction.

“Yes, I will.” She says as she guides Marie out of the living room. Meetings with Marie were generally short and for a good reason. It was even shorter now due to the Octoling’s presence. “See you later.”

Marie waves as Cordelia shuts the door behind her. Relief washes over the Octoling’s face.

<Thank the Great Octarian that’s over.> He mutters.

<Great Octarian?> Cordelia asks as she locks the door. <What Great Octarian?> 

He gives her a deadpan stare. <What makes the day, _the day_. >

<You’re making zero sense.> Why did he have to be weird?

He groans in frustration. <When the Great Octarian sets, it’s night. When it rises, it’s day.>

Cordelia pauses; he’s talking about the sun. The corner of her mouth twitches in amusement as a laugh soon follows. _That’s adorable._

<Okay, okay. I get it.> she says through continuous laughter. She misses his pertinent scowl.

Cordelia ceases her amusement after a couple of breaths. <I’ve never heard that expression before.> He sounds so _serious_ too.

The Octoling didn’t seem to appreciate her humor. He changes the subject. <What did she say?> The Octoling folds his arms. <About the plan?>

<She wasn’t on board with it at first, but she’s willing to go along with it under some very strict conditions.> Which Cordelia didn’t know yet, but was sure that she’d find out very soon. <She doesn’t trust you.>

<Likewise.> he frowns. <She might clean up nice, but she’s vile.>

Cordelia rolls her eyes. <The same could be said about you.>

<Oh?> No, not that grin. She knows she made a mistake as soon as she hears his cheery tone. 

<No, hands off.> She braces a hand in the air.

<You’re right. That’s only reserved for deal making, and you’ve ran out of deals to make.>

<Is that supposed to upset me?> She lifts one brow. 

<Maybe.> He doesn’t approach her, but the way he pulls his zipper down his jacket has her eyes enticed. He reveals his finely sculpted chest as he drapes the jacket on his arm. <Look, but don’t touch.>

<I’m fine with that.> She huffs. <So just put that back on.> She’s thankful that he can’t read her mind. Her legs feel wobbly as he approaches her.

<Octoling, I’m warning you.> She raises a finger. <I can call Agent 2 right now and let her know you’re being difficult.>

<But you won’t.> He slips his hand into the pocket of her dress and chucks the secure phone line onto the settee. Her back is pressed against the cool wall. <Because I’m proposing we make another deal.>

<And what’s that?> Cordelia raises her head to meet his stare.

<In exchange for my trust, you must give me yours.> He whispers in her ear. She shudders as she closes her eyes.

<I-I think I can trust you.> She barely whispers. <At least, I hope I can.>

<When you whisper like that…> His purr rolls off his tongue. <I want to forego it all.>

Yeah, her too… How was it that this man was becoming increasingly dangerous? It takes courage for her to break away. Cordelia steps forward, refusing to entertain such thoughts. Pearl’s warning reminds her to stand her ground. Within their arrangements, it was fine. But without an arrangement ...no, she couldn’t get involved with him.

Not in the way he wanted her to.


	11. Chapter 11

It hits her. Overwhelm. Her heart beats; perspiration laces her skin. She smacks her hand against the wall, her body feeling weaker by the second. Their society was on a verge of a war. Their opponents; lifeless drones. 

<Cordelia?>

Warm comforting hands keep her from buckling to her knees. She goes from panicked to weary. 

<What’s gotten into you?> His voice is laced with confusion. Cordelia doesn’t blame him. She didn’t expect everything to hit her all at once. 

<I don’t know.> She lies. <I think I need to lie down.> 

She can feel his grin. Cordelia points a weary finger in his direction. <Don't even think about escaping.> 

<I think we’re past the point of orders, don’t you?> She gasps as he scoops her in his arms. Her stomach flutters as her eyes are drawn to his strong jawline. His violet eyes soften as they linger on her lips. When he held her, she felt her worries dissipate. It was like pure unadulterated magic. She closes her eyes; her heart beating faster than before. Cordelia feels the gentleness of his actions as he places her onto her plush mattress.

<I need you fighting fit for your new mission.> He grins, lightly patting her head. <Can’t have you collapsing on me now.>

<I wasn’t going to faint. I’m not a delicate princess.> Cordelia crosses her arms in detest.

<As I said before, I wouldn’t let anyone harm you, Agent 4 or not.> There’s a certainty to his voice. A certainty that both elated her, and frightened her. It was happening so fast. There they are; his eyes settle on her lips. Was he going to lean in and kiss her? The way they part indicated that he would. He places his large palm against her cheek, caressing it gently before he leans in. His kiss is gentle, soft.

It’s  _amazing_.

Cordelia melts as she desires the feeling of his tongue, but he eases off instead. The desire to pull him back was tempting. He could make her forget her troubles in an instant; instead, filling her being with bliss. But, as Cordelia reminds herself, she is a fickle creature. Fickle creatures don’t get happy endings.

<I don’t want to make your condition worse.> His usual grin remains on his face. <But…>

 _But?!_ She feels her heart tremble as her gut churns with glee.

<I will leave you to rest.>

Oh.

Cordelia closes her eyes as she lets out a deep breath. Damn it all! Did she forget what she had decided? As much as the carnal urge was there, she couldn't get her emotions involved. If she did, he'd be able to pull her heartstrings; manipulate her. If she allowed herself to fall for his advances, she'd be done for. She didn't have the luxury to fall in love.  

He leans off of the bed and removes himself from her room. She could only hope that he would stay true to his word. Cordelia eases into her pillow and closes her eyes. It’d only be for a short while.

 

Cordelia blinks; her eyes are immediately drawn to her ceiling; pictures form within the stucco texture. Her imagination always did this, especially as a child. She notices that her palms stopped sweating, and her heart rhythmically flowed with the rest of her body. She was able to breathe easier now. Piece by piece, her fragmented thoughts came together. The upcoming mission ahead and what that’d mean for them. From the corner of her eye, Cordelia notices that the sun’s position has changed dramatically since she last closed her eyes. Shit. How long has she been out for? Cordelia hops out of bed and scurries to the living room. The Octoling is bent over on the table, fiddling with her—phone?!

Cordelia stomps over to him. <Excuse me!>

He raises a brow as he angles his head upward. <You’re excused.>

<Don’t be a smart-ass. What the hell are you doing with  _my_  phone!> She’s thankful he wasn’t toying around with the secure line, or Marie would have her ass.

<You were out for at least two hours.> He shrugs. <I saw that your phone needed fixing and went to work. See?> She notices that the crack is …completely gone?! <Turns out that ink in that splattershot really works for melding glass into place.>

<Wow.> She blinks. How was that even possible? <It looks brand new!>

<I’d have done some soft resetting, but I can’t understand that weird Inkling text.> He curls his fingers. Right. She forgets—even if he did have access to that secure line, he wouldn’t be able to do much with it. It’s numbered in that weird Inkling text, as he had referenced moments before.

<Is it to your satisfaction, Cordelia?>

<It is…> Her words trail off. He did a really nice job. <Thanks.>

<I’m not just handsome, I’m also handy.> He lowers his eyes. <Just so you know.>

<Noted.> Before her apparent two hour nap, that comment might have stirred some weird emotion in her; making her regret that she brought him here. At this moment, however, she feels oddly …calm.

<Now that you’re up, I was hoping we could go outside. I  _need_  to stretch my legs.>

<Do you think that’s a good idea?> Cordelia worries. Obviously, no one has spotted the drones, but there weren’t many Octolings in Inkopolis… No, Cordelia. They’d be fine to walk outside together. She looks at him for a moment, noticing that there is a tear in the collar of his jacket. How didn’t she notice that before?

<I don’t see why not.> He stands up, patting his legs. <The Great Octarian is high in the sky, and this isn’t a chance I’m going to miss.> He hurries to the door, lacing up his boots. Since Cordelia’s shoes weren’t pillaged from the scene of the crime, she’d go with some basic slip-ons. She sees the secure line on the settee—it remained untouched—as she grabs it. No missed calls or even a text. Marie must be contemplating this hardcore to remain silent. It was literally on her word to come over. Well, Cordelia could do with a short outing herself. As long as the Octoling didn’t cause chaos, it should have been fine. Cordelia grabs her handbag by the door and slips both phones inside. She’s extremely thankful that her wallet wasn’t abducted. Cordelia sees that the Octoling is eager to escape, eyeing her until she turns the knob. The two set out as she locks the door behind her, settling into the nearby elevator. The minute the door closes, she gives him the low-down. 

<No tomfoolery, or anything of the sort. You have to be on your best behaviour.> She points a finger at him. He takes her hand as he gently nibbles the top of her outstretched finger.  _Wow_. Her gut swirls in delight.

<Things like that are what I'm talking about...> She scolds as she watches his face light up with satisfaction. Cordelia gets the hint that he was purposely getting a rise out of her.

_Cheeky bastard._

<You taste good.> He licks his lips.

<I said stop that!> She hisses. Cordelia could only imagine what the security camera was picking up. Who knows who would see this? She crosses her arms as she angles away from him.

<You were  _not_  complaining last night.> 

<Could you not?!>

She raises her voice as the elevator opens; two residents blink at her in confusion. Cordelia lets the couple pass as she makes her way to the glass door.

The Octoling glides an arm around her shoulder, her damn heart patters yet again. <Now where to? I didn’t notice it last night, but this part of town is really clean.>

Cordelia politely nudges his arm off of her shoulder. He wasn’t wrong. The streets were clean, the trees well-trimmed, and the gardens were consistently maintained. It was around summertime, where the flowers were in full bloom, lining the thin roads that weaved through the town. It was a place she could willingly call home. There was notably one thing she forgot as she groans from the oncoming sunlight. Her shades… And if she were to guess—were no longer in her possession. Dammit. The glint from the window of the clothing store forces her to block the light out with one hand. Actually… Her thoughts wander. Maybe she could buy some new shades at this place?

<I’m heading to  _Fancy Fresh_ , need to pick up some shades.>

The Octoling nods as he follows her to the store. Once inside, a cheery Anemone girl waves to Cordelia, welcoming her to their wares. Cordelia offers a light halfhearted wave as her eyes scan the merchandise. Shades… Shades… OH! Cordelia snaps her fingers as she picks up a newest model of the Tinted Shades. They didn’t look much different from the previous model but she wasn’t going to complain.

She scans the eyes for the shop-girl but notices that she’s chatting away with the Octoling quite animatedly. Cordelia was starting to wonder—just how common was Octarian? She sees him eyeing the jackets, a Black Inky Rider in particular, paired with a tee of choice. She knows how much those Inky Riders cost. There’s no way he had that kind of money. Marie would have taken everything off his person. The shop-girl notices that Cordelia has picked out an item and offers to take it to the counter. Yet, Cordelia's eyes hop back to that Inky Rider. It would help him blend in—while keeping that edgy leather look intact. She sighs…

“Can you get me one of those Black Inky Riders in his size, please?” The Anemone’s eyes light up in delight as she runs over to grab one off the rack. At first, it looks like he refuses, but then he looks at the folded tees. He picks up a green one as he hands the items to the shop-girl. He didn’t even want to try it on?

“Your total is 10 450 coins.” She places the shades on the counter as she rings them in. “I noticed your friend’s jacket is ripped. He can use the changing room out back if he wants to change."

“Go ask him.” Cordelia shrugs as she again watches the two converse, handing him the jacket and tee. Cordelia waits on the bench for him to change, and to her delight, it doesn’t take too long. He steps out, the green tee hugging his toned chest. The jacket fits around the shoulders nicely, giving him an edgier look than he previously had. It looked great on him. Colour her impressed. 

<What do you think?> The glimmer in his eye hints that he already knows the answer to that question. 

<I bought you that so you’d look less out of place than you already do.> She crosses her arms. 

<I’ll take good care of it.> He pats the sleeve. <I treat gifts I receive seriously. Especially if they are from cute Inkling girls such as yourself.> He leans in with a smile. To her horror, she hears the shop-girl giggle at their interactions.

She glowers as she leaves the store, securing her brand new shades onto her face. 

The world seemed a tad bit darker; just the way she liked it. 

Cordelia fiddles with her purse, pulling out the secure line. No messages from Marie. Cordelia’s decided that if she doesn’t hear from Marie in the next couple of hours, she’s calling the white haired Inkling herself.

She turns to the Octoling; he’s distracted by the rhinestones lacing the sleeves of his jacket. Rhinestones? If it weren’t for the sun's rays glimmering on the sleeves, she wouldn’t have noticed it. Most men she came across avoided flashy gimmicks, but it seemed to be the preferred style for this one. Maybe Octolings were like crows; the shinier the item, the better.

Squidbucks was a thought that crossed her mind, but Cordelia didn’t feel comfortable taking the Octoling into a cramped public area. There was a park up the way; a big open space shouldn’t be a problem.

A six minute walk brings them to the local park. To Cordelia’s surprise, the park was busier than usual. By the pond were children of all ages feeding bread to the pond’s aquatic residents. The path was mostly clear, as it seemed to be a bunch of families having picnics. Cordelia didn’t go on too many picnics as a child, however she can appreciate the activity. To Cordelia’s relief, they only encounter a couple of suspicious stares. The other park residents seemed to ignore the Octoling’s presence. Cordelia’s eyes widen as she feels the Octoling’s arm around hers. It's not like the other sly, arm around the shoulder trick. There was a different energy to it. 

If Cordelia were to guess, the feeling that he emitted was ...fear.

<There’s so many of them.> The Octoling mutters. <I don’t like it.>

<Calm down.> Cordelia whispers. <Hardly anyone notices that you’re here.>

<I still don’t have to like it.>

<You’re the one who wanted to stretch your legs, Octoling.> Her eyes roll. <Just don’t make a fuss and no one will bother you.> She sighs. Cordelia hopes she’s telling the truth. She didn't need the attention, either. 

The Octoling stops suddenly; halting Cordelia in her tracks. Oh no… Was he going to make a break for it? Running away would make him look even more suspicious, even he had to understand that!

Except... Cordelia looks down to see a small Inkling boy held onto the Octoling’s leg. The Inkling child looked to be only a toddler’s age! How the heck did a toddler follow them this far unnoticed?

The child's starry-eyed expression reveals admiration. 

<Hello.> The Octoling bends down to the Inkling boy’s level. Both parties seem incredibly relaxed. <You’re quite small.>

<I don’t think he’s going to understand you.> Cordelia looks around nervously. The last thing she needed was for others to think that the Octoling would steal this kid. Where the heck were his parents?

The child’s green eyes lock onto the Octoling as he continues to speak to the child. Cordelia has a strange sense that the kid’s able to understand him. This would make the second individual she met today that could understand Octarian.

“Landon, get back here!” She hears a woman’s voice yell. Cordelia peeks behind the Octoling, seeing a panicked Inkling woman not much older than her run towards them.

Cordelia presumes that this was her child. It would be silly not to.

“Da?” He exclaims as the mother quickly scoops up the child.

<I’m so sorry, you look just like my husband.> She says to the Octoling. She’s exasperated. The Inkling boy rustles in his arms, not dealing with her restraint very well. <It’s been some time since my son has seen him, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he ran after you.>

Cordelia has to pause. That woman just spoke Octarian. That would explain why the Inkling child could understand the Octoling. But that was nothing to what she had just heard. This woman was married to an Octoling. Cordelia wasn’t naive; Inklings and Octolings did pursue relationships together, and some even had families of their own. It was just …uncommon, especially here in Flounder Heights. She had never seen an Octoling around these parts. As for the child, it was fortunate to be born an Inkling. He could have just as easily been born an Octoling—and Octolings have a bit more trouble fitting in Inkopolis. It wasn't necessarily right, it was just the way things were. 

<It didn’t bother me.> The Octoling shrugs. <He's harmless.> 

<Thank goodness. I’m surprised to see another Octoling around here, my husband would be eager to meet you.> She beams. <Why don’t you two join us on our picnic? I have a couple of leftovers, and I’d be more than thrilled to have some company.>

The Octoling looks at Cordelia with curious eyes. Sure, why not? She could do with some lunch. The orange haired Inkling leads them to a nearby blue tartan blanket. She would lie if she said she wasn’t nervous, but perhaps the woman could share some details on her Octoling husband, and what he used to do. Would she be wrong in assuming that he worked for the Octarian Army? Cordelia groans. Her time as Agent 4 had really coloured her opinion on the Octarian race in general.

The woman sits down, letting her son roam around on the blanket. She hands Cordelia a sandwich with a carton of apple juice, following with the same meal for the Octoling.

<I’m sorry, this is all I have. But I just couldn’t miss a chance to talk to another Octoling.> She smiles as her child leans on the Octoling’s thigh. She politely scolds her son for not being considerate of someone’s personal space.

Cordelia has to smirk; that’s the Octoling in him coming out.

<I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.> The Inkling woman smiles as she studies Cordelia’s features. <But I don’t know why.>

<I’m sorry, I have no idea who you are…> Cordelia frowns. She doesn’t want to be rude.

<What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?>

<It’s Cordelia.> She outstretches her hand to the Inkling woman.

<I’m Noralyn. My son’s Landon.> She grins as she takes Cordelia’s hand, gently shaking it. This woman had a soft touch. <Oh! Now I know where I’ve seen you before. You’re  _that_  Cordelia, the daughter of the Firthe Family!>

<Yes, I am.> She grins awkwardly. Her family wasn’t celebrity status but they would be well known around Inkopolis. <I was hoping the green would help in hiding my outer Firthe.> She manages a laugh. She dyed her tentacles for a reason. 

<I’m just good at recognizing faces, sorry.> She grins as her green eyes hover on the Octoling, who’s been entertaining her son. <What’s your friend’s name?>

<Radjerd, and we’re more colleagues than friends.> Cordelia has no desire to get into the semantics of their relationship.

<Colleagues?> 

<In a matter of speaking.> She grins. <What about your husband? Not to make assumptions, but if you’ve got a toddler I’m guessing you’re a full-time mom.>

<I am, thanks to my husband’s job at Grizzco Industries.> Cordelia knew Grizzco Industries had questionable working conditions, stealing eggs from salmonoids being the first of many questionable business practices. Not that she was going to get into company politics at this point. If this Octoling were overseas, chances were that he was making a lot of money to support his family.

<How did the two of you meet?> The question that Cordelia wants answered the most.

<Back when I used to play Turf War, I’d play until the sun went down. One evening when I was at Arowana Mall, I accidentally ran into an Octoling, who said he had been following my matches for quite some time. I was only eighteen at the time, so I was elated that someone took interest in me, as I wasn’t the  _best_  player out there. It turns out it was an excuse to get dinner with me, and …it was a swift courtship, and we got married pretty fast, maybe  _too_  fast. He had a great paying job, and I discovered I was pregnant with Landon, so I thought it’d be the best move for my family.> She laughs, although Cordelia can identify that for her it was a legitimate concern. <Sorry if I rambled. It's nice to talk to someone my age, especially since my conversations of late have been with a three-year-old.>

Her age? If she had a three-year-old, and met her husband when she was eighteen, that had to make her at  _least_  twenty-one. Cordelia didn't think she looked  _that_  old. 

<It's okay, really. Don't worry about it.> 

Cordelia sees that now the Inkling boy has made it on the way to the lap of the Octoling. She was not going to share with his mother that her  _colleague_ was an Elite Octoling. 

Cordelia feels her bag vibrate; She knows exactly what that is. Cordelia excuses herself as she puts distance between her and the others. She flips open the phone and answers it.

“Cordelia, I’ve given it some thought.” Gee, Marie doesn’t waste time. “I think I know a way this can work. Can you bring the Octoling with you to the base? Or, do you need me to meet up with you to ensure he doesn't escape?”

“I should be fine.” Cordelia says while she glances at the Octoling. He's busy conversing with the young family. She prays he’s not telling that poor mother things that he shouldn’t be. “We should be over soon.”

“Sounds good.” Marie hangs up as Cordelia slips the phone back in her bag. She’d have to take her sandwich and juice pack to-go. Cordelia makes her way back to the picnic blanket. 

<I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to leave. My boss called and needs us urgently.>

The Inkling mother wraps the sandwich for Cordelia and hands her the unopened juice pack. <Would you mind if I got your number? Your colleague says he doesn’t have a phone, and the best way to reach him was through you.>

Of course he would say something like that… Cordelia rolls her eyes.  <Sure, just put your number in my phone.> Cordelia takes out her personal phone and hands it to the Inkling, who swiftly inputs her number.

<I’m thankful I got to meet you two.> She grins. <I hope I wasn’t a bother!>

<Not at all. Your sandwich was delicious.> The Octoling speaks up as he hands the Inkling child back to his mother. <I’ll make sure  _My Cordelia_ holds up to her promise. Your family was a delight.>

Cordelia almost chokes as her eyes shoot daggers at the Octoling.

The Inkling mother can’t help but laugh. <The pleasure was all mine. I hope the rest of your day goes well. Till we meet again!> She waves as the two take their leave.

Cordelia waits until they are out of the orange haired Inkling's earshot. <My Cordelia?!> Her tone is laced with annoyance. <Why would you ever say anything like that in public?>

<It’s not a big deal.> He shrugs.

<I told her we were colleagues. Colleagues don’t say things like that about each other.> 

<Cordelia, I’d hate to think we’re as impartial to each other as colleagues are.>

She rolls her eyes again. <I hope you know we’re going to the base.> Cordelia eyes him before his face visibly shudders. <So be on your best behaviour.>

<Ugh.> He speaks before he crosses his arms in detest. <I don’t see why you’re being like this.>

<Being like what?> Cordelia doesn’t like his tone.

He stays silent. Good. Maybe silence would do them both some good. 

 

Both Callie and Marie are sitting on the bench upon their arrival. Cordelia wants to pretend that it was a hurdle to get him here, but his silent treatment had proved to be a blessing in disguise. It gave her a chance to finish her sandwich (which was surprisingly delicious). She didn’t understand the Octoling’s mood swings, for they would change from confident and assured to brooding and sulky. She thought that the interaction with the family would make his mood better, not visibly worse.

To see both cousins waiting for her; her stomach churns in apprehension. This meant that she was really going to do this… and it all depended on the Octoling’s cooperation.

“Agent 4… Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Marie gently asks. “Even with what I’m about to suggest, you’re still at a great risk for capture, and even worse, betrayal.”

“Are you sure you can trust him?” Callie speaks up, eyeing the Octoling suspiciously. “I agree that he seems more docile than he did when Agent 2 brought him here, but I’m worried. Not all Octolings are bad, but from what I experienced, their loyalties aren’t always obvious.” She nervously strokes her hand. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“I know what I’m signing up for.” Cordelia nods. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Alright. Then follow me…” Marie brings Cordelia and the Octoling to the cabin. Callie follows behind. Cordelia’s surprised. She didn’t think Callie would feel comfortable in the cabin, but she must have sensed that the Octoling wasn’t as dangerous as he once was—even with that sour look on his face.

“This shouldn’t take long.” Marie begins, as Callie closes the cabin door behind her. “Remember what we agreed upon when I sent you into the depths of Octo Canyon? I’m going to follow up with a hidden communications device that can keep us in contact with each other. That means if this Octoling decides to be a turncoat—we can find your location and fish you out before it’s too late.”

“I’m not backing out from this one either.” Callie joins in. “If Agent 2 has to follow you, I’m going to send backup. We’re going to make sure that this plan is foolproof.”

“Except that it won’t be, Agent 1.” Marie moans. “It’s still risky, and the worst of it is, is we can’t even understand what the Octoling’s true intentions are.” She crosses her arms in contemplation. “Agent 4, can we ask you to translate some questions for us?”

“I can try.” She looks at the sulking Octoling. She lets out a heavy sigh before she asks, <They want to ask you some questions. Can you answer them?>

<I can, but…>

<But?> She doesn’t like his tone.

<You must promise me something in return.> Cordelia’s getting whiplash from this man.

<It can’t be the  _usual_ , for obvious reasons.> Cordelia warns. 

<Do you want me to talk to them or not.> 

Cordelia says begrudgingly, <What is it that you want?> 

<I want you to stop denying your feelings for me.> He lifts his chin as his arms uncross.

Cordelia flushes upon hearing him speak. <How ignorant do you have to be to assume that I...!> Her face burns. She can't even say it. She didn't want his assumption to be true.  _This_  was why she decided to distance herself unless they had an arrangement ...not that she was doing a good job of that, either. 

He simply says, <Because I have feelings for you, Cordelia.> 

 _Cordelia! You knew this already!_  But, hearing him flat out confessing like this ...it made her heart leap in joy. She can feel her whole being turn an ugly shade of red. 

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to reason with him.” Cordelia sports a nervous laugh. 

Marie rolls her eyes. “Tell him to hurry it up or he’s not getting our cooperation.”

<They’re getting impatient, Octoling…> She does her best to resume her regular stance. 

<I see you're observant to the Agents' requests, but not mine…> He hums for a second. <Alright then. I’ll talk.> A semblance of his previous mood returns; that mischievous glint fumes in his eye. She's nervous. <Just make sure you repeat my every word.>

Cordelia isn’t sure this is a good idea, but she agrees. “He said he’ll do it.”

“About time.” Marie nods. “My question is: What will guarantee his cooperation?”

Cordelia repeats Marie's question to the Octoling.

<That’s an easy one.> The Octoling grins. <Now remember, you have to repeat  _exactly_  what I say to the agents. That's our deal.>

<I’m not saying anything incriminating, Octoling.> She frowns in disdain.

<It’s not. Just do it.> She doesn’t like being told what to do, but she decides to follow through.

Cordelia takes a deep breath as she translates what she hears. “You don’t have my trust. If I had it my way I would take my revenge on you.” Cordelia stops.

<Don’t threaten her!> She hisses.

<Keep going.>

Cordelia takes another deep breath. “I want you Agents to tell Cordelia that she has your blessing to date...me.” She hitches.

Marie is wide-eyed as Callie raises her brows in amusement. Cordelia covers her face with her hands and groans. 

“Oh my god.” Callie gasps. 

Marie facepalms.  

 _God_ , what was happening right now…? This was absolutely ridiculous. This was a goddamn mess... 

<What is their answer?> The Octoling grins. 

<I’m not just going to do something because the Agents ask me to.> Her voice drips with embarrassment.

<In order to date you, I got to make sure you make it out alive. If you don’t, then I can’t. That simple.> 

<What happened to  _‘it’s no fun if it’s forced’? >_

<There's nothing forced about it...> He raises a brow. <So do we have a deal or not?> Cordelia’s teetering on the edge of frustration. If it weren’t for the butterflies that were dancing around in her stomach, she’d have clocked him in the face. Maybe she should anyway.

“You don’t have to put up with this.” Marie frowns. “Remember what I said.”

Cordelia whimpers a little before speaking. "Do... _god_...Do you give me...your blessing...to pursue a...relationship...with the Octoling?" Cordelia chokes. Never had she been this mortified in her life. 

“What a bastard…” Marie mutters. "But if you agree to it, then yes. You have our blessing. Right, Agent 1?" 

Callie nods her head slowly, the black haired Inkling's face is still in shock. 

<Agent 2 said yes.> Cordelia frowns. <Are you happy?> 

<So you  _will_  do it if the Agents deem it appropriate. Good to know.> His grin is wider than she's ever seen it. <I will do my absolute best to ensure that you make it out alive,  _My Cordelia_. > 

She smacks him on the arm. She can't deal with him right now. 

"Sorry to interrupt, but, that’s one problem we got out of the way. There’s still one more than I want to address. About you being unarmed, I just don’t see that working. I get that he wants to pretend that you’re his prisoner, but you need some method of protection.”

“You were going to give his gear back, right Agent 2?” Callie adds, “Give him some barriers and make sure that Agent 4 is decked out in gear that can ensure a few hits. If he likes her, he’s not going to let her get hurt.”

“I suppose…” Marie’s attention focuses on the Octoling. “And I assume he knows the way.”

“Yes.” Cordelia nods.

“Then the last of it is… when should the two of you leave?”

Cordelia turns to the Octoling and repeats Marie's question. 

<Tomorrow—the sooner the better.> He nods. 

“He wants to leave tomorrow.” Cordelia feels her tone waver. Nerves start to creep in. All three agents remain quiet, however, Cordelia sees that Callie wants to speak. It surprises her when Marie is the first to break the silence. “That should be doable. I’ll give you the appropriate gear, and return the Octoling's belongings." 

The black haired Inkling's face turns sour. It was clear to see that Callie did not agree with her cousin. 

Cordelia feels both nerves and butterflies. She lowers her head as she feels a wave of nausea coming on …which wasn’t unusual for her. Never had her stomach felt so animated before, and pulled in two entirely different directions.

She’s not sure she would survive this …and she’s not talking about the mission.

That Octoling would be the end of her.


	12. Chapter 12

Cordelia feels herself growing warmer as the room remains silent. The Octoling’s warm gaze forces her to acknowledge his presence. He looks mighty content with himself.

 _Bastard_.

“I don’t think you should do this, Agent 4… I mean, at least until we know a bit more.” Callie speaks up. Her trembling voice indicates that this isn’t easy for her to do. Both Cordelia and Marie turn to face the black haired Inkling. While the Octoling didn’t understand her words, his eyes rolled just the same.

Callie clears her throat. “Agent 2 told me that he wanted to destroy the Research Facility to eliminate drone production, but… I just don’t buy it.” She crosses her arms in speculation. “I know I should have said something sooner, but, I’ve been amongst them, _as_ one of their soldiers. There is no reason that an Octoling would want to betray their kind, no matter the circumstance.”

<I don’t like that tone.> The Octoling mutters. Cordelia raises a hand in front of her lips as a hint for him to keep quiet.

“We still don’t know why the Rainmaker has been stolen, and who’s to say that he wasn’t behind it?” Callie’s hands emphasize her point. “We didn’t even ask him.”

“I don’t think he’s behind _that_ particular crime…” Marie folds her arms as she glances at Cordelia. “I trust Agent 4’s judgment.”

“4. It’s not that I don’t trust you.” Callie’s gold eyes moisten. 

“I agree that this could completely backfire, but there are measures we are taking to ensure Agent 4’s protection.”

“No, you’re not understanding!” Callie raises her arms in an attempt to gather her thoughts. “The Octarians aren’t idiots—they’ll sniff her out in seconds. If they do, they won’t hesitate to make an example out of her…” Her voice lowers.   

Marie’s lips part. She wants to speak but decides against it.

“We need a _solid_ plan, not a _‘let’s hope for the best’_ , Agent 2.”

“You understand that Agent 4’s deployment _was_ on a whim, right? If I waited any longer, we wouldn’t have been able to save you.” Marie’s expression looks pained.

“What if her mother found out?” Callie’s tone becomes solid. “If something happens to her, or you know, she gets _killed_ , you’re just going to tell her mother that we just _hoped for the best?!”_

Marie rests her hand on her forehead, letting out a begrudging sigh. Cordelia knows that the white haired Inkling isn’t going to challenge her cousin.

“Okay, Agent 1. What do you suggest that we do?”

Callie pulls a chair out and sits next to the Octoling. Her gold eyes scan him up and down as her brows furrow indignantly. “Agent 4, translate for me.” Cordelia’s back stiffens—she’s never seen Callie so serious. She has no choice but to comply.

“I want to know _why_ he’s willing to betray his own kind.”  

Cordelia repeats Callie’s statement to the Octoling. What Cordelia notices is his eyes dart to the left of him as his lips pursed. His fists visibly clench.

<I’m not betraying anyone.> He shrugs. <My goal is prevent more drones. I already told you why.>

<Agent 1’s not buying it, and frankly… she has a point.>

<What is it with you Inklings? We _just_ agreed to go forward with the plan, and now that black haired Agent’s looking for a way out. Maybe I should be the one asking you three why you’re not willing to protect Inkopolis? > The Octoling stresses, <If we destroy the facility, we eliminate the drone problem. How hard is that to understand?>

His answer doesn’t work for her. <That doesn’t explain why you want access to the Research Facility. You told me you wanted _me_ to grab any Intel I could. I highly doubt it was for my benefit. What are you looking for? >

The Octoling clasps his hands together. His body language indicates that she hit a nerve. <If I find it, I’ll tell you. Can you leave it at that?>

Cordelia hears the desperation in his voice; he was telling the truth.

<Okay, I’ll think of something to tell Agent 1.> Her sigh of resignation perks the Octoling’s interest. Her eyes widen as he leans towards her with that playful smirk on his face. There was _no_ way he was going to pull one of his stunts—not in front of the Agents. He couldn’t be that ignorant!

<H-hey!> Cordelia yells hotly. <This was _not_ part of the deal! >  

< _My Cordelia,_ nothing you or I say will get them to believe me...> His purr sends shivers down the nape of her neck. <Only my actions will show where my loyalties lie.> She’s about to protest as he scoops her up, knocking her chair to the side. She muffles a gasp as he overthrows her lips, massaging her tongue with his own.

Cordelia wants to give in, yet common sense overtakes her—she manages to break away from his embrace. Still in his arms, she looks down at the shocked and slightly horrified Agents.

Callie is speechless.

 “I will never question his loyalties again if it means that I can be spared from _that_.” Marie mumbles under a hot blush.

<Just put me down before I die of embarrassment.> Cordelia stares daggers at the Octoling.  

<It’s not my fault your Agent wanted me to prove myself.> The Octoling whispers as he puts her down. <Just tell her I’m all yours.> His playful smirk indicates that he knows she wouldn’t dare say a thing like that. His hand settles near her rear. She slaps his hand away.  

“Agent 2… how well acquainted _are_ they?” Cordelia can hear Callie whisper to her cousin. “I thought… you know what, forget I asked.”

Cordelia is happy that Marie kept true to her word, however, she shudders when she realizes Callie may have just caught onto the nature of their relationship. 

“I am so, _so_ sorry!” Cordelia wants to cover her face with her hands, but she refrains from doing so.

Callie coughs a little before answering, “He’s definitely into you, I’ll give him that.” Cordelia isn’t sure if the black haired Inkling is disgusted with the display, horrified, or both.

“Do you really believe he will sacrifice Agent 4 to the Octarians?” Marie whispers to her cousin. “He can’t even keep his hands off of her for five minutes.”

“I guess…” She folds her arms in speculation before she continues.

“We’ll play it safe, I promise.”

Callie smiles—her cousin’s words resonate with her.   

Marie claps her hands. “I have the gear set up, and we should be able to execute the plan starting tomorrow. Agent 4, please get the Octoling up to date, and I can deal with the rest. I’ll give you both your gear tomorrow morning, so please be here in a timely manner.”

“I will.” Cordelia nods.

“Wait.” Marie’s gold eyes hover on the Octoling.  “You know we can keep the Octoling here overnight.”

“He won’t overstep his boundaries.” What a lie that was. “I know how to handle myself.”

While he could be incredibly convincing, he never forced himself on her. But, Marie did have a point. What was she going to do with the Octoling?

“I know you do.” Marie nods. “I just hope we’re doing the right thing.”

 

Last night was …easier than Cordelia had anticipated. She and the Octoling didn’t talk much, as she suspected he was also nervous about today’s mission. They shared a meal together, but she expected some kind of come on or a flirtation. _Something_ to distract her from her own thoughts. But, he had taken what she said seriously and even agreed to sleep out in the living room for the night—much to her disappointment. A part of her was _hoping_ he would attempt to convince her. When she woke up this morning, his legs were hanging over the arms of the settee. His face was tranquil; peaceful, even. It made her heart flutter to see him so relaxed. Her gut, however, was more interested in the way the morning sun danced on his shirtless frame. If she had no sense, she may have let her lips wake him up.

Callie and Marie were both at Tentakeel Outpost waiting for them to arrive. Cordelia was dressed in a Pink Hoodie, Black Trainers and of course, her signature Tinted Shades. She had to hide her identity as Agent 4 as best she could. But the worst of it was ...her tentacles were down—they reached past her knees. Marie had suggested the idea based on the fact that she never wore them down—well, mission accomplished, she looked _nothing_ like herself. The pink hoodie gave her the opportunity to wire a radio without much suspicion. It couldn’t transmit in, but the signal could go out. All Cordelia needed was to tap a button to send for help.

As for the Octoling, he wore the Black Inky Rider that Cordelia had purchased. He didn’t want to part with it, as he told her before they left her place. Marie had returned his gear to him as originally agreed upon. He was also given an additional splattershot—however, without a regenerative Ink Tank. Marie must have thought that if the Octoling were to go rogue, at least he couldn’t do too much damage. Without much delay, both Callie and Marie sent them off to their task.

Cordelia approaches the edge of Beaker’s Depot, as she feels the Octoling’s eyes on her. The heat of his gaze was incredibly distracting.  

<This colour suits you.> Beaker’s Depot encouraged Cordelia’s tentacles to change from green to a soft blue. <Not that I dislike your natural colour—it’s very _you_. >

He thought her green tentacles were natural? He really mustn’t have listened to her talk to that orange haired Inkling yesterday.

<Why hasn’t yours changed colour?> She asks out of curiosity.

<I’m not sure why. I’ve never seen it turn another shade as long as I’ve been alive.> Maybe for Octolings, it was different—except in Marina’s case. Her frosted tips seemed to change with each Splatfest.

Cordelia inwardly sighs. Now wasn’t the time for such thoughts.

<Cordelia, you can’t look so spritely.> The Octoling grins as he pulls her against him. She can feel every inch of him against her back.  <You’re supposed to be my captive. Don’t look so relaxed.>

<Don’t get too excited, Octoling. Just because I’m playing captive doesn’t mean that I have to put up with your harassment.> She glowers.

<Harassment, is that what you’re calling it now?> He raises a brow as his hand meanders around her hip bone, gliding his fingers downward. Cordelia’s gut erupts in glee; she has no shame. <Can a harasser do things to you that will make you buckle to your knees?>

<Not even you would be daring enough to do that out in the open.> She says sharply.  

<Try me.> His voice soothes into a singsong tone as his hand slips past her waistband. As soon as his cool fingers make contact with her skin, her heart jumps into her throat. God. He was _really_ going to do this? She jerks away from him, pulling his hand away. His cocked grin riles her temper.

<Are you out of your mind?!> Of course he was. There was no way someone _sane_ would ever attempt to—she can’t even think about it.  <Keep focused, Octoling…>

She takes a couple steps in front of him before they reach the landing. They were about to journey through Slimeskin Garrison.

<I should warn you, there is a chance you’ll get recognized if you act defiant, or show that you’re fearless. We’ve done all that we could to hide your appearance, but there’s always a chance you’ll get recognized.>

He’s got a point. Cordelia knew this was part of the deal, but could she really pull it off? She gulps. Knowing her temper, she might not be able to.

<Just don’t do anything demeaning and I might be able to pull this off.> She warns the Octoling before they ease onto the landing pad.

Her heart pounds before they land. Her breathing quickens. Her tentacles go from pale blue to mint green. The Octoling notices the change as he strokes her tentacle yet again. She can’t feel it, but the idea of him _stroking_ her causes her gut to dance in joy.

Octo troopers litter the area; unusual for the usually barren Slimeskin Garrison. Her gut tells her they’re using the area to train. She even noticed some Octolings on the high-top platforms. If Octolings were here… she may have been right. Cordelia sees that none linger near the yellow bounce pads. Memories come flooding back to her. When she discovered the give those ledges had, she bounced on them for a good fifteen minutes before Marie interrupted her fun. It was a welcome thought before her vision pulls her back to reality. Their goal was to get to the kettle-shaped grate on the floating platform. That would bring them to the Experimentorium.

Cordelia feels the Octoling put a protective arm around her as he backs her up against him. She wouldn’t tell him, but she needed the reassurance. 

<This isn’t good.> He mutters. <I didn’t expect so many Octarians to be here.>

Cordelia nods. No pressure… no pressure at all…

She yelps as he lifts her over his shoulder; the contents of her stomach are pressed against his shoulder blade. She didn’t need to act; this was legitimately uncomfortable.

<Put me down!> She harshly whispers.

<Cordelia, may I remind you that you shouldn’t be using the Octarian tongue here?> He shakes her a bit. <Ssh!>

Cordelia hates being shushed.

“Unhand me, you gregarious Octo-brute!” She yells in Inklish as soon as she sees some Octolings circling the perimeter. She didn’t have to put on an act—she legitimately felt this way.

She feels his shutter, so she yells again. His annoyance brought her a great deal of pleasure.   

Cordelia’s eyes linger on one particular Octoling who uses the bounce pads to reach them. She watches the black haired Octoling as she hops down the side of the tower. Her goggles cover most of her face, but the seaweed type head garment reveals her status.

She was also an Elite. If she was …was there a chance that she knew her _captor?_ Her stomach becomes woozy. What if she calls him out?

<Hey, Radjerd!> Cordelia’s thankful that she’s wearing her shades, or, the Octoling might see her current discomfort.  

The Octoling stops as he turns around. The sudden swerve hits Cordelia’s stomach in an unpleasant way. _Ulp._

<Freydis?> He gawks in surprise. <I haven’t seen you since the deployment!>

<Likewise…> Cordelia can hear the female Octoling hum. <I see you got sidetracked.>

She laughs.  Cordelia can’t see her face, due to the position the Octoling was holding her in. <Your mission was to report to Marina; not kidnap some Inkling chick.>

<It turns out Marina wasn’t there, so, I had to settle for something while I was above ground.> The mention of Marina’s name brings Cordelia’s thoughts to Pearl. She hopes the frosted tip Inkling didn’t get herself into too much trouble. Thoughts of Pearl dissipate as she feels the Octoling’s hand pat the back of her thigh—this was worse than when he scooped her up in front of the Agents.

<I do need to get going before this little one decides to escape.> Cordelia flushes. She can hear the deliciousness in his tone. Cordelia holds a straight face as the Octoling girl side-steps to get a better look at her. The Elite removes her goggles, a pair of deep blue eyes rest on the green haired Inkling.

She smiles as she stops him mid-movement, approaching Cordelia with no regard for her comfort. Like the Octoling, she was also tall and fit, however, more on the lean side. Right. Cordelia forgot that Octolings and personal space don’t co-exist. Cordelia’s eyes widen when the girl’s fingers graze Cordelia’s cheek. She narrows her eyes, although she doubts the Octoling girl can see her displeasure. If she did, it was likely that she wouldn’t care. 

<She looks clean.> Her smile widens to an uncomfortable grin. <Can I play with her?>  

She goes to inspect the rest of Cordelia as the Octoling steps half a foot back. <No, you can’t.> He says coolly.  

Her tone is playful. <I’m not going to hurt her …much.> Her laugh unsettles Cordelia’s gut. She wasn’t going to make it out alive, was she?

<I said no.> His tone is firm and strong. <She’s mine.>

<Oh, I see...> The Octoling girl presses a finger to her lips. <Impressive catch.>

Cordelia flushes instantly. _Catch?!_ Octolings were truly a barbaric race.

<Never took you for the type to settle with an Inkling girl. Is she aware of this arrangement?>

<No. But she’ll learn.> Cordelia understands it’s an act, but… there’s a part of her that _believes_ what he’s saying. He didn’t …legitimately kidnap her, did he?

<Oy’ her face is as red as one of those fruits.> She says as she … _oh god_ , licks her lips. Did the Octolings have some secret Inkling fetish that was unknown to her? She was not about to become the appetite of a second Octoling. <Are you sure she doesn’t understand you? Some Inklings are smarter then they look.> She tilts her head to the side as she leans in close. <Are you sure I can’t have a taste?>

<Don’t even think about it.> He growls. <She’s not for sharing.>

<You’re no fun.> She steps back to get a better look. <Bet she has a tight body.>

Wait, did Cordelia hear that Octoling right? How _crude._

He purrs. <Like you wouldn’t imagine.>

Oh, _god!_ She was right here—sure, the girl didn’t know she grasped Octarian, but _he_ knew full well that she could understand every single word. There was nothing she could do about it unless she wanted to give herself away. He was going to pay for this.

<Oh!?> Did that Octoling just _squeal_?  <Wow—you lucky bastard. How did she take to that?>

<She wanted it just as much as I did, I assure you.> She hears that satisfactory purr in his voice. Just because _that_ part was true, didn’t mean he had to tell his friend… Nothing was sacred for Octolings, was it? _God_ …When they leave this place, she’s going to have Marie arrest him.

<I hope the kid’s an Octoling, for both of your sakes.> She frowns. <If not, it’ll be Alteus and his Inkling bride all over again.>

Cordelia ponders the name Alteus. Was that the name of the orange haired Inkling’s husband? She’s realized that the woman never told her his name.

The Octoling reassures his friend. <As much I wouldn’t mind a little one, I have a feeling _she_ would. > Cordelia inwardly groans. Yep. She was going to get Marie to contain him the _minute_ they step back on home turf. 

The Octoling laughs as he takes a step forward. <I need to get going, or else someone else might try to take her from me...>

<I’m sorry, I thought I’d give it a shot.> She laughs. The Octoling girl steps back, her playful tone is replaced with a serious one. <Here’s some advice. Don’t carry her over your shoulder—hold her like she means something to ‘ya. She might just scream a little less, you know?> Cordelia braces herself as the Octoling guides her back into his arms while supporting her legs with the other. Those awful butterflies return; she can’t resist being held like this. 

<How’s this, little Inkling?>

Cordelia feels her face burn as she narrows his eyes at him.

<I think you have a long way to go before she warms up to you.> The Elite Octoling laughs. <But if anyone can accomplish that, I’m sure it’s you.> She waves as she spins on her heel to take her leave.

Cordelia waits until the Elite Octoling is out of earshot. <Are you mental?!> She does her best to keep her voice in a whisper. <You did _not_ abduct me!>

<Cordelia. It was either that, or Freydis would have wanted to have some fun with you before she used you as target practice. Is that what you would have preferred?>

<No.> Cordelia huffs. <But you didn’t need to say anything else to her!>

<She asked.> He leans his lips against her forehead. <I wasn’t lying about my intentions, Cordelia. I want us to get to know each other better.>

Her heart jumps into her throat as the wave of butterflies return. _God_ , not this again.  

<So I heard…> She grumbles. <What’s the story behind you and that other Octoling?>

<I trained with her back at the Academy.> His smile widens. <Why, are you jealous?> 

<Hell no.> She crosses her arms. What did _she_ have to be jealous of? From the sound of Freydis’ voice, she wanted a piece of Cordelia… which, was a harrowing thought. One Octoling was enough.

<Are you sure?> He teases. <I’m well liked back home, just so you know.>

It angers Cordelia that his words bring on a pang of envy. It was none of her business what others thought of him. She shakes her head as an attempt to get rid of her silly thoughts.

<Don’t you think your _friend_ is going to tip off …you know, anyone else about the Inkling you _supposedly_ abducted? You basically told her you captured me because you thought I was …desirable.> She stops herself from saying _good in bed_.

<I wasn’t going to lie to a friend. I’m sure you can understand that.> 

<You literally _just_ lied to her face. > Cordelia narrows her eyes. <Because what I remember is, Agent 2 handed your ass straight to you before locking you up.>

<How about we tell her the _full_ truth, after we finish the mission? I’d rather her remain ignorant at this time... > His voice sours as he barely mumbles, <I just hope this is all worth it.>

The Octoling pauses as they arrive at the bounce pad.

<You should put me down for this… you know, it’s easier to jump while we’re in our forms.> Cordelia warns, but the Octoling doesn’t listen.

<I’m holding onto you until I have to let go.> He tightens his grip on her as she feels herself elevate through the air. She lets out a mute scream; her long tentacles grip around him. She closes her eyes as he miraculously gets enough momentum under himself, propelling them both forward. She sees the kettle-shaped grate as the two of them land. This is where the nerves came in.

<I can’t believe you carried me the whole way here.> Cordelia flushes. <That wasn’t necessary.>

<It’s because I want to.> He frowns. <I said I’d protect you, Cordelia, and I bloody well will.>

Cordelia’s assured by his conviction. <I agreed to this, you know. I wouldn’t do something that I didn’t think was worth doing.> Cordelia relaxes her head against his shoulder. She _knew_ this was dangerous. Her stomach flutters as she hears his heart beat against her ear. Just because she was leaning against his shoulder doesn’t mean that she was warming up to him. It’s because her neck’s craned. And sore.

Two steps to the grate. The Octoling lets Cordelia down. She doesn’t admit to him that her nerves bounce all over the place. Although the grip on his hand tightens around her arm as he approaches the entryway. Was he hesitant in letting her go? Why does she have the feeling he was?

His face is pained.

<Cordelia.> His disposition wavers. <Just follow my lead. No matter what, _do not_ leave my side. >

<I won’t.> She nods; even though her stomach was tied in knots, she was ready for what lay before them.  This would be the first time that she ventured into a kettle-shaped grate _without_ a weapon to defend herself.

Experimentorium, here they come.


	13. Chapter 13

The dismal foggy atmosphere was just how she remembered.

Cordelia’s footsteps echo as she takes a step forward. The only good thing about this place; it turned her tentacles into a lovely shade of lime green. The questionably structured pillars remain just as she recalled; the neon signs blink erratically. During her previous visit, she was equipped with the Hero Blaster (which she was terrible with, but she managed to survive). She had no idea why Sheldon would curse her with such an unpredictable weapon, especially on this terrain. She takes a glance below, noticing the many apartment-like structures lining the ground. Cordelia didn’t think about it before, but were those buildings housing a portion of the Octarian soldiers—or rather—experiments? It had to, considering that this place would lead them straight to the Research Facility. How, Cordelia did not know. That was up to the Octoling to reveal. 

<How are we supposed to get around this place without a solid weapon?> Cordelia asks, eyeing the Octoling's splattershot.

<We’re not going up, Cordelia. We’re going down.> The Octoling forms a downward arrow with his fingers.

<We are  _not_  jumping down there.> Cordelia indignantly crosses her arms. The Octoling pulls her closer to him, securing her wrist with his hand.

<Ssh.> He presses a finger to her lips. <Remember what we discussed.>

She closes her eyes as she bites her lip. The Octoling was right. Cordelia could not let her temper override her.

<Fine.> She whispers as she allows him to scoop her up. How he could be so rough and gentle with her all at the same time? <But I don’t have to like it.>

<I know that you do.> He whispers.  What happened to remaining in character?! Cordelia scrunches her face as she feels his hot breath in her ear. Why, oh  _why_  did he have to do this? She whimpers softly. He  _knew_  he was torturing her. Of course he’d enjoy that. She hates how favourably she responds to this man.

A loud clang distracts the two, the Octoling immediately lets her down. As agreed upon, he grabs her arm, appearing as he was forcing her to stay. Cordelia darts her eyes around the premises, noticing that there aren’t any Octarians in her line of sight which ...worried her

<What’s going on?> She whispers; he immediately covers her mouth. Cordelia wriggles her nose as a hint for him to move his fingers—she can barely breathe.

He eyes her with a warning as he nods his head upwards. The low hum sends chills down her being.

The horrifying glow of its red eyes scanning the area; donning a metal weaved helmet with four Octocoptors pulling it along the horizon. Gripped within its pale blue gloves was a stingray scanning the area. It’s the cleanser of Inklings; The Octo-Shower.

Cordelia’s hands clam up as the mechanical beast approaches them. She grips the Octoling with her arm as her eyes dart away. She freezes; that  _thing_  almost killed her. There was nowhere for them to run—they were screwed.

The Octoling coerces her to the edge of the platform.

<Cordelia, listen to me. We have to jump down.>

<N-no! We won’t make it if we jump!> Cordelia sputters as the Octoling’s grip tightens.

<We have to get out of here before that  _thing_ scouts you out.> He takes out the splattershot and points it forward, unleashing the ink contents from the barrel.

<You expect me to jump for my life?!>

<If you’re in form, it shouldn’t be a problem. We can jump into the ink down below.> He gives her a sideways glance as a grin graces his lips. <If you prefer, you can hold onto me as I jump.> She doesn’t appreciate his ill-timed humour.

Cordelia didn’t want to admit it, but that was the option she preferred.  She wouldn’t last five seconds in the air, as her form would  _poof_ , and reform at the spawn point. From the sounds of things, it didn’t sound like Octolings had that concern. She nestles into him.

<Are you ready?>

She nods as he secures both arms around her hips. He doesn’t scoop her up like she expected,  _or wanted._

Cordelia gasps as the Octoling propels them off the ledge.  Her long tentacles latch onto him his body as they fall.

<Get in your form,  _now!_ > Cordelia does as instructed and plops into the puddle of ink.

Okay, she’s got to admit. That wasn’t too bad.

Both residents look above to see the shadow of the Octo-Shower loom above them. Cordelia yelps as she clings to him—the low hum it produces scares the living daylights out of her. The Octoling notices her discomfort and carefully pats her back. That was just what she needed.  

<You’re alright. It won’t notice you down here.>

Cordelia peeks above his arm, the Octo-Shower slowly passes them by. She breathes a sigh of relief as she looks up at the Octoling. She carefully lowers her arms from him as his warm smile encourages those dratted butterflies to return.

<I told you I’d protect you, Cordelia. You’re safe with me.>

God. Not this again. Cordelia swallows as she adjusts her shades. It was both a blessing and a curse, the feelings he stirred within her.

She does her best to change the subject. <Where are we?>

A legitimate question, as she never journeyed down this far into the Experimentorium. She recalled the ceiling’s moist droplets from above, but didn’t consider  _where_  they have fallen. The drops aligned with what she presumed to be giant holding containers. If Cordelia were to guess, that water could be housed and turned into a malleable liquid that didn’t harm their citizens. Or, maybe it wasn’t even water. It was too dim to tell.  The Octoling shrugs as he places his hand on her back, leading her to the metal stairwell lining the building. Cordelia hurries down the stairwell to a place that she’s never seen. Cordelia notices the Octoling never answered her question—she wants to know why.

Octarians and Octolings line the streets, walking to and from their destinations. If Cordelia were to guess, this might have been a residential district. Yet, why would they decide to build Octarian housing right under the Experimentorium? Judging by the heavy amount of foot traffic on these dirt roads, this was a hotspot for Octarian residency. She didn’t expect to see so many breeds of Octarians line the streets; it was both unsettling and fascinating to witness.

The Octoling scoops her away from sight, using his tall frame to hide her from passerbys. 

<My place is up the street—just do your best to stay hidden until we get there.>

Cordelia nods as she adjusts her sweater. She couldn’t help but be surprised by the lodgings here. It seemed surprisingly simple, given the high tech the Octarians were known for. This part of Octo Canyon seemed surprisingly nature-based, as some of the buildings had plant life growing on the rooftops. She wasn’t a scientist, but if she were to guess, the plant life was to bring a semblance of fresh air to this place. 

It takes Cordelia and the Octoling seven minutes of walking before he stops at a four-story building. The Octoling opens the door and encourages Cordelia to walk inside. The entrance wasn’t very big, just enough room for the two of them. The Octoling places his hand upon a scan pad; it turns green as the metal like door opens for him, leading them both to the stairwell. Cordelia’s eyes dart around the hall. Inside, it was surprisingly  _normal_. They stop at the fourth flight of stairs as they come to a brown metal door. He places his hand upon another scanner; It repeats his name in a robotic voice:

_Radjerd Laurius, Confirmed._

Laurius? Cordelia realized she never asked for the Octoling’s last name. Nor, did he get hers. It wasn’t really necessary in today's times. Her own world however was stuck in the days of old—she was commonly known as Miss Firthe, until she moved to Inkopolis. The door opens to a quaint space, decorated in simple furniture. A small kitchenette, and a bed to the right. She notices that a single door hugs the right corner of the wall. It was likely that it was a bathroom of some kind. From the looks of things, this was a bachelor apartment. Cordelia notes that the unit is impressively tidy.  

<Welcome home.> He closes the door behind him. <It may be good to stay a while, just until the streets clear out. The Research Facility isn’t far from here.> Cordelia takes off her Black Trainers. It was polite to take one's shoes off at the door. 

<Why do you live here?> Cordelia asks without much thought. She thought Elites would be entitled to some kind of perk. This place was the size of a dorm-room. 

<It’s a housing unit for us Elites. Only us bachelors live here.>

<Bachelors, hmm?> Cordelia ponders. She had assumed most Octarians were bachelors by nature—maybe the Elites had different needs. 

<Yes,  _bachelors_. Believe it or not, we don’t live like reptiles. Most of us are nurturers by nature, contrary to the belief of you Inklings. Like you, we also aspire to settle down and have families of our own. >

Settling down wasn't one of Cordelia's personal goals, however, the Octoling did have a point. She shouldn't have assumed Octarians were incapable of companionship.

<I didn't mean to say it that way.> Her experience with Octarians in general had only been as Agent 4—she didn’t have time to be sympathetic to their needs. She had one mission—to obtain the Great Zapfish. Cordelia pauses. That was a harrowing thought. She had shot Elites on the spot, not even thinking about the ones they would have left behind.  _Oh, come on Cordelia. They would have respawned, not died_.

<Many of us aspire to have families, and retire from the military.> He says with a longing voice. <But, as the Great Ocean rises, many of us have to abandon our homes.>

<Oh.> Cordelia speaks softly.

<It’s why Freydis and I have decided to serve—to provide a future for us Octolings, up above. If she knew what I was  _really_  doing, she’d have no choice but to kill me.>

Cordelia flinches. She gave him the taste of hell for what he said to the Octoling girl. It must have been challenging to stare his friend in the face, knowing what he was planning to do. Cordelia had to apologize; it felt like the right thing to do.

<I’m sorry for getting mad at you back there.> She looks away, eyeing her Black Trainers by the door. <I know I don’t show it, but I appreciate your sacrifice, even if I don’t get  _why_  you’re doing it.>

The Octoling crosses his arms, looking at the bare beige wall. Cordelia can see the gears turn, but all he says is, <And they say you Inklings are cold and unfeeling.>

That’s not what she was expecting him to say.

<Just because we use our heads doesn’t mean we’re cold and calculating. In fact, it makes us smart and sophisticated.>

<And dull.> He adds, <Which, I’m glad you’re not.> Not that she needed him to compliment her—he did that well enough.

<If we Inklings are such a bore, why are you so drawn to me—you know—an Inkling?> She raises a brow. She didn’t mean to say it like that, yet, was curious to hear his answer. This Octoling had a fancy obsession with her—it was time to hear why that was.

<I thought you were adverse to the idea?> A suave smile graces his lips. <It sounds like you’re fishing for compliments.>

<Answer the question.> She rolls her eyes.

<If you want an answer, you know what you must do.> He points to his lips. 

 _Nevermind._ She ignores his deep laugh. Cordelia shakes her head as she walks to the window. The assortment of Octarians below fill her mind with curiosity. The Octoling observes Cordelia; his eyes soften as he approaches her. Cordelia quivers when she feels his heat radiate from his strong arms, sheathing her torso. He grazes her lip with his long, lean finger.  He doesn’t say a thing.  

She gasps as he takes off her shades, gently putting them onto the windowsill. His other hand makes it past her waistband; Cordelia gasps as he takes his time with her, massaging his hips against her backside. To her surprise, he doesn’t move his fingers past the band of her shorts.

<It’s because you’ve got bravery; drive.> He whispers; his lips tantalizingly close to her ear. <You’re witty; unnerving. The way you take charge of the situation, it appeals to me.> He purrs as Cordelia catches herself on the windowsill. He could whisper anything with that voice of his and make it sound alluring. <That is why I want to pursue you.>

<Even though I’m Agent 4…> She’s said it before, she knows that. But, it’s something she can’t let go of.

<Agent 4 or not...> His tone draws her closer to him. <There is only one thing I care about right now.>

<And that is?> Her steel blue eyes lower on his entertained smile.

He leans in before whispering, <I want to hear those cute little moans of yours.>

Cordelia sharply gasps as the Octoling lifts up her sweater, exposing her stomach as he eases onto his knees.  His warm lips leave a trail of soft kisses above her belly button, soon trailing downward to her hips.

She feels his hands grip around her waistband as he pulls her shorts, along with her undergarments to her ankles. Her gut swirls in elation as her eyes close. A soft moan escapes her as his lips meet the center of her desire. His tongue softly grazes her; her entire being quivers against the windowsill.  _God_. Her breathing quickens as he hums against her, taking his time as he moves his mouth upward. He eases her onto the windowsill as his lips explore the entirety of her.

Cordelia is helpless. Her ability to reason dwindles. Her breathing becomes labored. How was it that this man could perfect  _everything_  he did to her? She hitches against the windowsill as he explores her, taking his time to taste every fold. His savory tongue enters her as he makes a deep purring sound. Her jaw quivers at the contact; her mind hums with anticipation. There was no way she could last one more minute. Feeling him within her, massaging each crevice with his mouth; she wants to scream. It feels so  _good_. Her fingers curl at the edge of the windowsill as she throws her head back. Thankfully, it doesn’t hit the glass.

He stops; Cordelia’s eyes widen in horror. How could he stop? No. how  _dare_  he stop! He picks her up and whispers, <I’m going to do this properly.>

Cordelia’s eyes instinctively roll in the back of her head as he throws her onto his nearby mattress. He parts her legs as his tongue enters her, wasting no time in picking up where he left off. With each movement she groans as he basks in her approval. That quick break doesn’t prevent her from losing her mind; the tip of his tongue forces her to convulse. Good  _god_. She pants for dear life as he further extends her release. Her heart hammers against her chest as she arches her back—her fingers reel in his teal coloured sheets.

Her breaths soften before she wipes her forehead with her sleeve.  _Wow_. He grins, slyly licking his lips.

<Oh, don’t do that!> She groans as she catches her breath. <That’s disgusting.>

<What’s disgusting about it?> He joins her on his bed, slipping the radio out of the pocket of her sweater. He frowns. <Please tell me this wasn’t on.>

<The Agents said it can only broadcast a help signal. It can’t record my voice—don't throw it!> She flushes hotly as he tosses it aside to the wall. The Octoling tugs at her sweater. 

<Take this off.> His cool voice soothes her burning ears. Without a moment’s notice, she does as she’s told. If he could make her feel like that again, he’d listen to anything this man had to say. Within seconds, the pink sweater is on the floor, only her bra remains.

He eyes it as he unclips the front with one finger. <Cordelia, I want to see  _all_  of you.>

She doesn’t know why showing her chest made her awkward, but it’s not like he hasn’t seen it before. Her breaths tremor as he slips off his leather jacket, along with the green tee. She bites her lip when she sees his delicious frame. Her heart flutters when she sees his pants glide down his toned legs. A grin crosses her lips when she notices that he too was eager for this encounter. Her eyes don’t leave his as he pulls her forward, easing himself into her. He lets out a grunt as his squints, letting out a satisfying moan as he moves within her.

He secures her arms above her head; his muscled frame keeps her secure against his mattress. Cordelia closes her eyes as her sensitive core welcomes each movement. He’s so  _warm_ , it drives her crazy.

Inaudibly, he murmurs as he lets go of Cordelia’s wrists, swooping her into a warm embrace. His mouth encapsulates hers as his tongue dances with her own. He steals her breath as she feels him gently moving within her. She feels his stray finger play with her moist spot, teasing her with purposefully slow movements. He stops as his back tenses, thrusting deeper within her, instantly holding on to Cordelia as his lips part. She can feel him twitch as the warm sensation of his release overtakes her. Her eyes roll in the back of her head—she  _loves_  this.

Instead of letting go, he pulls her into a hug like embrace.

<You’re making me lose my mind, Cordelia.> He breathes into her ear. <You force me to do things I’d never do.>

Like …destroy the Research Facility? No. Cordelia isn’t about to ruin her afterglow with thoughts of their mission. In fact, she chooses not to think about it. If she let that thought sit, she might find herself ready to turn in her resignation—agents just didn’t  _do_  things like this on the job.

<I’m sure you felt  _forced_  to do this.> Her brows raise as she grins.

<Forced? Never!> He leans his lips on her ear. <But you, Cordelia, are the most exquisite creature I’ve ever laid eyes upon.>

God, that makes her warm. Cordelia looks away as her cheeks burn from his compliment. <I think you just have an undiscovered preference for Inklings.> She huffs. <Trust me, there are prettier Inkling girls out there.>

<Not to me.> He whispers as leans out of her, the instant coolness floods her skin. He grabs a blanket and wraps it around her before settling in. <I’ve never had a partner as good as you.>

As  _good_ as her? She didn’t do anything special—it was him who did all the work. Cordelia shrugs him off. 

<You have no idea what your cute little moans do to me,  _Cordelia._ > His cheeky grin causes Cordelia to lightly smack him on the cheek.

He laughs as Cordelia flips on her side.  

<I didn’t lie.> His moist frame clings to her back as he wraps both arms around her. <There’s no need to be embarrassed.>

<I’m not embarrassed,  _Octoling_. > She purses her lips. Her rosy cheeks imply that she most certainly was… It’s why she had to face away from him.

<I wish you’d stop calling me that.> His tone grows uncharacteristically sour. <Maybe I should call you  _Inkling_  to make up for it.>

Oof, Cordelia didn’t like the sound of that.

<Do you have a problem with us Octolings?> His voice is speculative.

<I-I have no problem with Octolings.> Cordelia says in a heated tone. <If I did, I wouldn’t be here.> Her voice silences into a whisper as of others could hear her. It encourages the Octoling to lean his chin on her head.

<Then call me by my name.> He lowers his voice to match hers. <It’s not going to kill you.>

That’s the thing… Cordelia couldn’t allow herself to do that. If she did, she  _knew_  she’d get attached to him. She couldn’t allow feelings to get involved. Despite how good he was in bed, he was still an enemy soldier.  

She remains silent. There’s no right way to answer him.  

<Maybe you could call me Octoling a little bit  _less? >_ His voice breaks the silence as he attempts to reason with her. <Whichever suits you best,  _My Cordelia. >_

She finally corrects him. <I am not  _your_  anything.>

<Yeah, we’ll see about that.> His response makes it sound like he’s sure of himself. It isn’t until she feels his hand glide down her hip that she makes her decision.  

<Enough of that!> She smacks him away. She’s been sidetracked long enough. She hops out of his bed, picking her scrunched up clothes from the hardwood floor. She slips them on, feeling the hot gaze from the Octoling’s eyes.

<I love the way you wriggle into those shorts of yours.>

He’s not serious… <My point stands—you’ve clearly never seen an Inkling before.> She rolls her eyes as she approaches the window. The streets have cleared slightly since she last saw, but not enough that it was deemed safe to go out. Great. She would he here longer with  _him_. Cordelia would have to make sure he wouldn’t pull any more distractions.

Except; her eyes linger on his glistening form.

<I could say the same to you, Cordelia.> He jests. <Clearly you’ve never seen an Octoling before me.>

<S-shut up.> She crosses her arms as she turns away. <And put some clothes on.>

He grins as he makes his way to the bathroom, leaving Cordelia to wander his apartment. There wasn’t much to be seen as far as personal effects; except for a few pictures on the wall. She sees one framed of four Elites—all wearing their goggles so their faces remained unclear. She assumed the two with their arm hanging around each other were the Octoling, and Freydis. The other two males were shorter in stature. Staring at this picture, it was obvious that the two were closer than he lead on.

Cordelia didn’t like how the picture made her feel. Instead, she sees a notebook on the tiled coffee table. She goes to grab it, it’s filled with illegible notes—not from the handwriting, but the language. Was this the Octoling’s journal? Did Octolings even  _keep_  journals? She flips through the pages to see if there were any more hints to the Octoling’s past. Unfortunately, his Octarian script barrs her from the truth.

<You’re a nosy one.> Cordelia drops the notebook as she sees the Octoling leave the bathroom. His Black Inky Rider is replaced with a similar leather jacket, with a high collar and a sleeveless arm. It reminds her of the jacket that bore his torso—just like this one did. Gold trimmings lace the zipper. Cordelia feels her gut dance in excitement; he looks  _amazing_.

<I can’t read it anyway.> Cordelia shrugs off her bad behaviour.

<You know …anything that’s written in there, you can ask me. After all, we’re still in the business of dealmaking.> His eyes sparkle. <I owe you one.>

<That’s true.> She hums as she lifts her neck in the air. She was curious about one thing—why didn't he tell her about his relationship with the Elite Octoling they met? <How long was Freydis your lover?> 

<My  _lover? > _The Octoling laughs a hearty laugh. <Cordelia, you don’t make any sense.>

<A lover—friends with benefits—a causal partner… like,  _ugh_ , what we kind of are.> She says kind of, because she refuses to address the Octoling as her  _lover_.

<Right, I think I understand. It’s your Inkling word for  _fun_ without  _feelings_. Well, in my culture, it’s all or nothing. We don’t give ourselves to just  _anyone_. >

<I don’t believe you.> Cordelia folds her arms. <Back at the containment centre, you wanted to strike a deal with me, within seconds after you tried to kill me.>

<Okay, that’s fair.> He smiles. <I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but after I kissed you…>

She flushes—her thoughts go back to the turmoil she felt after their first encounter. Oh  _crap_.

<Don't stray from the question.> She's about to say Octoling, but remembers their previous conversation. <…I saw that picture on the wall.>

<The two of us were a thing, once upon a time. We had plans to settle down together after the war, but we both became different beings. She became obsessed with the cause, whereas I…> He stops. <It was a long time ago. We both carried on with our lives.>

Wait a moment …a long time ago? Just how old  _was_  he?

<I care deeply for her, but not in the way you’re thinking. We’re friends now, and that’s all she’ll ever be.>

Cordelia feels embarrassed. She couldn’t let that silly Octoling girl get out of her head. She knew their relationship wasn’t like that—she sensed it back at Slimeskin Garrison. She was making stuff up in her own head to sabotage herself.

No. Cordelia stops herself. The more she pressed about his personal life, the more of a chance she had to get invested in him. From the sounds of it, it might have been too late.

<Are you ready to leave?> Cordelia hints as she points to the radio. <I don’t think we should waste any more time.>

<Sadly, I agree.> He grabs the radio and hands it to Cordelia. <Don’t think this conversation's finished. After we've completed our mission, it'll be my turn to divulge all of your secrets,  _My Cordelia_... > 


	14. Chapter 14

Cordelia takes a deep breath as she steps out of the apartment. The Octoling had encouraged her to wear her hood up, keeping her tentacles hidden underneath the fabric. Cordelia hated the idea; she looked like a hump-back monster—disfigurement wasn’t a good look for anyone. She would rather the embarrassment of him throwing her over his shoulder again, but he made a fuss when she suggested the idea.  He mentioned to her that it made him uncomfortable, considering the discomfort she had went through the last time he did it. She kept silent about the unpleasantness being from his ridiculous claims, more than the action itself. She didn’t want to remind the Octoling that he lied to his friend.

There was something strange that Cordelia had noticed about the Octoling; he was gentler with her now than he had ever been. Cordelia has a ghost of a smile on her lips as her gut swirls in excitement. Perhaps, there could be a chance for them. Maybe, just maybe, she'd allow it.

Nerves trickle down the Inkling's stomach as she walks along the dirt road. Cordelia jumps as he gently holds her hand. Her lips part. It’s a tiny gesture, with a big impact. Her heart flutters as he feels the tips of his fingers stroke the top of her hand. He was supposed to be her captor, after all. Captors just didn’t hold the hands of their captives.

He looks back at her. <Don’t let go until we get there.>

His eyes lose that sparkle that Cordelia’s grown accustomed to. She senses nervousness in his voice. Oh, so that’s why he held her hand so suddenly. She’s got to admit, she’s anxious too. If she were to give it more thought, she would proclaim that this was a suicide mission—for the both of them.

It takes them ten minutes to reach their destination. Or, at least Cordelia _thinks_ it’s their destination. Her feet don’t want to move any closer. If she were to describe the feeling, it would be like weights around her ankles. The building stands about six stories high; metal panels grace the wall of the large structure. Cordelia turns her head towards the Octoling, who concentrates on the building in front of him.

<This place doesn’t look very old.> Cordelia whispers.

<It’s older than you think.> Meaning? Cordelia waits for a response, however, he remains silent.  

She tightens the grip on his hand as they move forward. He is the only familiar entity within this space. It’s a challenge to keep up; her legs felt like lead. Her instinct tells her to bolt.

<Cordelia, I need you to follow my lead. We’ll be in camera view soon—it’s best we let your tentacles out.> He whispers as he pulls down her hood, allowing them to cascade down her back.

He pauses before asking, <Cordelia, why are your tentacles turning black?>

<What!?>

She gasps, pulling her hair around her shoulder to investigate. She can feel the blood drain from her face—he was telling the truth. She asks the Octoling to hold her shades as she uses the reflection in them to see the rest of her. Her hair was lime green from her head down to her shoulders. The rest— _jet black._  

<Are you …alright?> His confused stare warrants some kind of explanation, but how is she supposed to explain this?

<It’s an Inkling thing—don’t worry about it.>

She was not going to admit _why_ this was happening.  Sure, it was common for Inklings to adapt to the colour of their partners …but they weren’t partners. She didn’t _do_ companionship. God, the minute she gets back to her place, she’s dying her tentacles. If Marie saw this—no—that would never happen. She stuffs her tentacles back in her hoodie. She’s thankful that he doesn’t understand Inkling biology.

<What are you doing?> 

<Putting them back. I don’t want anyone to see them like this.> Cordelia tightly crosses her arms and jerks away from the Octoling as he attempts to pull one out. She slaps his hand away from her.

<Why? I don’t think it looks _that_ bad.>

It’s not the look that Cordelia was against—even though it wasn’t a good colour combination—it’s what it _symbolized_ that she wished to keep them hidden.

<It doesn’t matter if they’re hidden or not. Let’s just get on with it...> She barks at the confused Octoling. He shrugs, unwilling to challenge her on the matter.

<When we get inside, I’m going to sign in, then take you up to the testing facility on the fourth floor. They’ll want you in one of their containment cells. I’ll slip my access card into your pocket so you can escape. You’ve got experience, so I trust that you won’t get caught. On the third floor, there’s a file room. I’m not sure how you’re going to get in, but that’s where any Intel might be. Grab any paper documents you need—stuff them wherever you can.>

<Why _paper_ files? Wouldn’t a computer system be more effective? >

<Electronic files can be easily breached. You forget that Octolings _thrive_ on technology—which means, we live in a society of digital geniuses. >

<That sounds backwards.> Cordelia argues. <Wouldn’t that mean your systems would be _harder_ to infiltrate with your so-called _society_ of geniuses? >

The Octoling rolls his eyes. <Even if that’s how it worked, I highly doubt you’d break through our code-walls. Let me handle that.>

She raises a brow in confusion. It’s hard to tell if he’s lying, or, if he’s trying to confuse her so she’d stop asking questions. She sighs—it didn’t matter. It’s not like she could crack codes anyway.  Cordelia can make do with sneaking around. Worst case scenario she could use the radio to contact Marie.

<That’s your objective, Cordelia. Meanwhile, I’m going to look for some answers.>

Answers …that’s rather _vague_.

<If you give me your access card then how are you supposed to get around?>

<People know me at the facility. I won’t be suspected.> Cordelia feels there’s more to that than he’s letting on, considering that he admitted to her that he can crack through code-walls. This Octoling was full of surprises. <Don’t worry about me.>

<I wasn’t.> She frowns as she crosses her arms. Not even a little bit. Her thoughts go back to her hair. The desire to groan is strong—she can’t even _lie_ anymore.

<Yes, you were.> He leans in and plants a kiss near the corner of her eye. He whispers in her ear, <I intend to hold up my end of the deal—I’m sure as hell looking forward to yours.>

Her expression softens; her ears welcome the sound. Butterflies flood her being.

_Dammit._

<Don’t do anything stupid...> She mutters under a hot flush.

His warm grin makes her insides swirl with delight. It soon turns to a frown as he eyes one of the security cameras ahead.

<The thing is.> He backs away from her as he leans his arm out. <I’ll have to lift you up again.>

<Do with me what you must.> She lets out a sigh.

He carries her by her waist, gently leaning her on his shoulder. From this angle, Cordelia can see the residential district, and the residents occupying it. The tips of her ears tingle as she hears the sliding doors open. The air feels cool on the back of her legs. The moisture in the air has dissipated, now replaced with a cool dry breeze. From what Cordelia can see of the entrance, the place appears sterile. Cordelia’s eyes scan the perimeter as she sees two Octolings dressed in lab coats. One curiously looks at her while adjusting her glasses while another seems to ignore the situation. Was this a common occurrence? Bringing Inklings to their doom?! She gulps, _hard_.

<A show of ID please.> A male voice speaks. She can feel the Octoling rummage through his jacket. Without much trouble, he lets them through. Yet, Cordelia has a pressing question. If he had I.D., why the hell did he need _her_ here? Cordelia _swears_ she can one of the Octolings mumble a, _< she’s calmer than the last one.>_

Well, _that’s_ unsettling. Cordelia hopes she didn’t make a mistake. Just where was he taking her?

Cordelia feels her stomach churn as they enter the elevator. The upward pull mixed with her current position made for a queasy ride. She tenses as the Octoling whispers, <It’s going to be fine.>

<Not if this damn elevator doesn’t—ugh…> It stops as Cordelia holds her tongue. If she spoke one more time, she’d throw up.

<I’ll put you down.> He lifts her off his shoulder and places her on the ground. <Try to look defiant.>

<I don’t _try_ , Octoling... I just _do._ > She mutters as the elevator doors open.

The doors open to a hallway lined with containment cells. She doesn’t want to entertain that the facility was clear of their _test subject_ stock. Nerves creep up her legs as she walks forward. He nudges her to say something.

“Hey, let me go!” She speaks in her native tongue. That should convince _someone_ she was displeased with the situation.

Cordelia braces herself when he nudges her into the first open containment cell. She finds it unnervingly appealing when he forces her into the corner of the small room. Cordelia squints as she scolds herself for having such thoughts.

<Here’s the key. When you see the light turn red, use it within the next five minutes, or, you’ll be locked in. There aren’t any cameras on this floor, so you should be okay until you get to the elevator.> He slips it into the pocket of her shorts; his hand lingers for a moment longer. He was aware of how close they were—and for the most part—undisturbed.

<Okay...> Cordelia whispers, as her being flutters with anticipation.

The Octoling’s eyes soften as they meet Cordelia’s. She eagerly awaits his touch; instinctively leaning forward to meet his lips. Her gut pangs with disappointment as he gently leads her away. 

<It’s not a good idea…> Discouragement laces his voice as he looks to the right. She would have been embarrassed by his reaction, but her head also turns to follow the sound—the elevator just beeped. The Octoling hurries out of the cell, fiddling with the number pad until the red light appears.  He said that she had five minutes before this mechanism would lock her inside, regardless if she had a card or not.  

It’s fair that the Inkling's mind floods with confusion; this entire place was a question mark. She didn’t even know what the Octoling was doing. He did say he wanted to _destroy_ the facility, but outside of that? He blatantly ignored her question. Cordelia was not a praying woman by any means, however, if she had to pick one time in her life to do so, today would be it.

An Octoling woman passes through the hall, her red hair was concealed in a bun as her attention is focused on her clipboard. Was she the reason the elevator beeped? Cordelia slowly walks to the internal pad and moves her card around the sensor. She has to fiddle with the card a bit before the temperamental device flashes green. Cordelia peers her head to the right to clarify that the coast is clear, before scurrying to her doom.

Cordelia waits around the corner. To her dismay, the signs weren’t explanatory, but she remembers what the Octoling told her—the file room was located on the third floor. How she was going to get into the elevator unseen was the troubling part. If it weren’t for that red haired Octoling now patrolling the halls, she could have moved past undetected. She grumbles. He did say there were no cameras on this floor, but she still had to be careful.  She takes a deep breath as she darts behind a shelving unit, her eyes locked on the lab coat wearing Octoling. What the heck was she doing? She uses her card to unlock one of the containment units and steps inside. Cordelia uses this as a chance to scurry past the Octoling and into the nearby elevator. She wipes her forehead as her heart pounds.

That was _close_.

She looks at the keypad—ah! The numbers don’t make sense to her, but if the Octoling said they were on the fourth floor, the third floor should be the key below. She looks at the symbols next to the door and matches them with the ones on the keypad. Cordelia holds her breath as she presses the keys below—she feels the elevator shift. It doesn’t take long before the elevator door opens. This _had_ to be the third floor. Cordelia takes her chances and scoots out of the elevator into the closet—which thankfully—was open. She closes the door as she peers through the vent. Her vision only showed her the nearby wall and corner office. She saw a tall Octoling with his tentacles tied back. He adjusts his glasses, and to Cordelia’s delight, has a file in hand. That didn’t take too long. Cordelia carefully opens the closet door and notices an open area with a file sign glued to the door. She sees that the hallway is clear and takes her chances. She rushes into the room, slowly closing the door behind her.

Cordelia’s eyes widen in shock when files line the walls.

She had found it—by complete dumb luck—but she found it.

Papers were strewn across the table as empty files laid across the floor. Cordelia starts with the papers on the table. She lets out a disgruntled sigh when she discovers everything written on them is _Octarian_. Dammit. She scans through more papers, hoping a picture or two can help her translate. So far, nothing she sees can be deemed recognizable.

Cordelia shakes her head. She knew her luck was too good to be true. If her luck could get any better, she’d be able to find Marina's file—it could give her some insight as to why she ran away. Her eyes scan the room; there _had_ to be some kind of indicator of where the important stuff was hidden. A stack of red file folders lingers near an open cabinet. If she were to guess, these files hadn’t been put away yet. Cordelia takes her chance with the top file and investigates.

Cordelia sifts through unwanted papers, finding a couple of Octoling profiles; grunts, soldiers, and even a couple of Elites. If she had more time, she'd search for Marina, but she has a feeling her file wasn’t going to be in the _recent_ pile. Same with her Octoling accomplice; those would have been in a different row. She searches the second file—which was reminiscent of the first. How disappointing. The third file—just as useless as the first. Cordelia picks up the last of the stack. The first paper she sees is in Inklish.

Holy shit.

Her eyes are glued to a Rainmaker blueprint. Diagrams show the Rainmaker in its full form, while other pictures show it as disassembled. No—that wasn’t it at all. It was showing how to _build_ a Rainmaker. From the quality of the paper, and the date being… _yesterday_ , it was definitely brand new. Next to the diagram were poorly drawn scribbles of Octolings holding a miniature design of the Rainmaker.

Cordelia’s heart stops when she sees the signature next to it. Her hands visibly shake as her throat dries out.

Aleck Firthe.

Cordelia blanks. Her knees feel like giving in.

There’s no way… Panic settles in as her free hand grasps the countertop, letting the paper fall to the floor. Her …father, couldn’t be behind the Rainmaker’s disappearance? Her eyes moisten in anger. H-how _dare_ he betray her like this! Cordelia takes deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself, but her temper still rages. It is quelled momentarily when she hears a muffled voice. Cordelia scoops up the paper and folds it. She tucks it in her bra—a trick she learned in prep-school. This way, the paper wouldn’t make a crinkling noise. She hurries behind the cabinet as she hears the door unlock.  She braces herself, closing her eyes as she hears footsteps inches away from her location.

“Hey.”

Cordelia squeaks as she opens one eye. 

“I’m not going to hurt you…” The voice speaks again. His smile indicates that his words are sincere.

Wait… Was he speaking Inklish?

The tall Octoling man leans down to match her height.  

“How did you manage to get in here?”

Cordelia remains silent.

“It’s okay, little Inkling. I have no desire to hurt you.” He rummages in his white coat pocket and pulls out a brown leather wallet. “See?” He opens the flap to reveal a picture of a woman and child inside—wait a minute. Cordelia’s eyes investigate the image thoroughly. That had to be Noralyn and Landon. But, didn’t the orange haired Inkling state that her husband was oversees? Or, had the Inkling woman lied to her?

“Is that your family?” She asks quietly.   

“It is… aren’t they lovely?” The pink haired Octoling wears a prideful grin.

“I know your wife.” His large brown eyes fixed on hers. “She said you were overseas.” Cordelia raises a speculative brow as she regains her composure.

“Did she?” He whispers.

Cordelia nods.

“I see…” He frowns. “I wish I could tell her the truth, but it’s against the rules.”

Against _what_ rules, Cordelia wants to ask. She doesn’t. It was unlikely he’d tell if he couldn’t even tell his own wife.

“My name’s Otis.”

Oh, so this isn’t the Alteus that Freydis was referring to?

“What’s your name?” He extends his large arm towards her.

 “I…I…” She stammers. He was so _big_ —he could crush her with those arms of his. Her thoughts go to Noralyn—she was a woman not much shorter than her …and somehow, _Oh, Cordelia!_ Her cheeks blush. Now was _not_ the time for such thoughts.

“I’m Cordelia.” She places her (by comparison) tiny hand into his large one.

“That’s an unusual name.” His grin _appears_ sincere. “What I’d like to know is, how did you make it down here without getting caught?” 

 “I was captured, but…” His raised brow tells Cordelia he doesn’t buy her story. “I escaped the cell and got lost—then I found this place and I …got curious.”

“They would never let you in here without an Octoling escort.” He strokes his large chin as he examines her. 

Oh _god_! She wants to cover her face. “Look, if I tell you why I’m here can you help me escape?”

“I can try.” He lowers his voice. “But, I’m on a bit of a recon mission myself.” He looks at the messy file folders near her person. “Maybe we can help each other out.”

Cordelia shouldn’t trust a man that she had just met—even if she was briefly acquainted with his family. “How do I know I can trust you?”

He smiles a warm smile—he must have thought her to be some helpless Inkling girl. “I’m working undercover as a doctor—to acquire specific Intel for my boss.” His boss? It sounded like an Agent job to her. So much for keeping his occupation hidden.

“Who do you work for?”

“How about I show you.” He pulls out a tag from under his sleeve. A spade-shaped crest appears before her eyes.

Cordelia’s seen that crest before—Marie had shown her during their brief training session when she first started out as an Agent. That crest belonged to the Inkopolis Special Forces Unit. If he had a crest like that, there was no way he was bullshitting her.

“I thought you might recognize it.”

“Y-you did?”

“Yes. There’s more to you than meets the eye, Cordelia.” His eyes sparkle in amusement. “It’s my job to detect these things, you know.”

Cordelia didn’t want to admit she was an Agent—not yet, at least. She could tell him what she and the Octoling were _planning_ to do. If he’s a part of the Special Forces, he might be able to help them out.

“I’m helping out this Octoling, kind of. He’s in the facility—but I don’t know where. He …wants to destroy it.”

Otis’ eyes widen in horror.

 “If he sets off the alarm, he’d be obstructing an investigation. We best find him immediately. What does he look like?”

“Black hair, dark, tall, but not as tall as you.” She grows warm at the thought of him. God dammit, she was cursed.

“Ah.” He grins at her. “I gathered he was an Elite.”

“How did you know?”

“Your tentacles are darkening.” He smiles. “The same thing happened with my Noralyn, so there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Cordelia crosses her arms as a scarlet blush stains her complexion.  Dammit, was it getting _worse?_

_God, what WAS it with these damn Octolings?!_

 

Cordelia can’t believe how _tall_ this man is. Yet, he walks with grace and poise as he guides her out of the filing room. Cordelia looks around the facility, noting how similar the Octolings in lab coats looked to her fellow Inkling brethren. They didn’t seem to be eying her when this Doctor was carting her around. She should be lucky she ran into him. If it were any other Octoling, she would have been royally screwed. Cordelia reminds herself, she needs to be thankful—despite the information she discovered in that filing room. Her gut sinks. There was no way she _couldn’t_ report this to Marie.

Otis leads her to an elevator. He doesn’t speak again until the doors close behind him.

“Just for the record …Your name _is_ Cordelia, right?”

“Yes.”

“I'm terrible with names, I apologize. I wasn’t sure if it was Calista, Cassiopeia or …forget I even asked.” His chuckle indicates he’s attempting to ease the green haired Inkling's nerves. It works …kind of.

“Cassiopeia is a bit if a stretch, don’t you think?” Cordelia goes along with the mood.

“It’s what I would have named my daughter.” His prideful grin returns. “If fate is so kind, I’ll get the opportunity to use that name. Noralyn isn’t too keen, but when I arrive home, I’m hoping I can convince her to try again if you know what I mean.”

Good _god_ , she did not need to know _any_ of this! Not only did Octolings have zero sense of personal space, they had no concept of the term _oversharing_.

Cordelia lets out an awkward laugh, hoping the pink haired Octoling will catch on.

“How did you meet my wife?”

Oh, thank the heavens that be! Cordelia was more than eager to get onto another topic. “At the local park in Flounder Heights.”

The Octoling’s brown eyes widen. “You live in Flounder Heights?” Cordelia isn’t sure she wants to tell this man where she lives—even if he was working for the Special Forces. 

“I visit there often.” Which wasn’t a lie, exactly. She did like the park.

“We live near the park—just bought a house last year.” His mood brightens. She can tell he loves his family. “If you met my wife, you’ve obviously met my son, then.”

“I did, but he seemed to be more interested in my friend than me.” What she doesn’t understand was how Noralyn’s son mistook the Octoling for his father—Otis looked nothing like her accomplice. She sees his eyes light up with curiosity.

“Your Octoling friend I gather. My son and I have a good bond. I hope I’m able to see him soon.” He laments. “I hope he remains curious. I don’t want him to follow the rest of Inkling society.”

“What are you talking about?” Cordelia’s slightly offended by his statement. “We’re plenty curious.”

“I mean, take an interest—you know—in Octarian culture.” He briefly pauses. “I don’t mean to be rude, but, you have no idea what it's like for us. The only reason I got this job is that I’m an Octoling, so it’s easy for me to blend in with other Octolings. It’s hard to do a recon mission when one doesn’t look like the enemy.” He sighs. “I’m thankful Noralyn decided to take me on, despite the cultural baggage.”

“I didn’t mean to be insensitive.” She frowns. “From what I remember, your family seems to miss you. A lot.”

“I miss them too.” The elevator doors open as the two walk through a slim hallway. Cordelia stays close to Otis; it’s _freezing_ down here. He directs her to one of the unoccupied examination rooms. When Cordelia steps inside, she sees multicoloured vials line the walls. Her gawking is noticed by the taller Octoling.

“It’s medicine before you get any strange ideas.”

Cordelia wants to reassure him that she felt that way, however, a sudden beeping on his pager distracts them both.

“Cordelia, I’ll need you to hide in the storage closet.” Great, like she hasn’t seen enough of those today.

“Why?!”

“One of our recently promoted general-commanders has scheduled a checkup.” His voice wavers. “I …got distracted when I saw you.”  

“G-General?” Cordelia stutters. She feels like her luck was running out.

He looks around the examination room briefly before he unlocks the supply closet door. “As you can see there’s still a noticeable gap but if you slide in there, we might be able to keep you hidden for the time being.”

Cordelia steps into the closet, a goo-tuber hangs on a hook inside. A couple of mops lay against the weapon. She’s never used a goo-tuber before. She had to survey her options in case the General discovered her. She prays that he doesn’t. She took down D.J. Octavio only because she had leverage. Here, she had none.

Within three minutes, the door opens. Cordelia peeks through the slit in the door, seeing a much shorter man pass by the examination table, garbed in a heavy black coat.  She can’t see the man’s face but notices his tentacles are a pale yellow—similar to her natural shade. His tentacles are combed over his half shaved head. His visor like shades cover half his face, so his eyes remain unseen. For a general, she expected someone of greater mass, like the undercover doctor.

Cordelia can barely hear what they’re saying. She watches the Octoling grab a needle and a vial. He’s close to the General, he could take the man out in seconds. Was that what he was planning to do? Cordelia’s head buzzes with questions. She catches a glimpse of the General’s clothing as he strips down. Her gut spikes in anxiety as she notices a familiar white fabric grace his arms.

There was _no way…_

Cordelia grabs the goo-tuber. That couldn’t be the creep that was stalking her around Octo Canyon.

No. Cordelia shakes her head. She doesn’t recognize the rest of him—her stalker might have been someone else. Plus, a General wouldn’t waste their time doing grunt work. She’s able to convince herself for the time being.  

It isn’t until the shorter man stands up that she begins to get worried.

The gold belt on the hanging trench coat strikes fear into Cordelia’s being.  

It was him.

Cordelia’s palms clam up; she’s not sure what to do. If that man was a General, she had to do something.

Adrenaline rushes through Cordelia’s frame as she positions herself to attack. She’s about to open the closet when—he stands up, collects his things and—walks out the door?

No. She wasn’t letting him get away so easily.

Cordelia flings open the closet door with the goo-tuber in hand. If it weren’t for Otis’ massive frame blocking the way, she would have succeeded.

“Don’t be naïve.” The pink haired Octoling warns as he braces her against the door. “If he catches you, you’re done for.”

“No, you don’t understand! When I was in Octo Canyon last year, _that man_ was following me!”

“Now, what reason would an Octarian General have to stalk an Inkling like yourself?” The Octoling raises a brow.

Cordelia takes a deep breath before she continues. “Because… I’m Agent 4.”


	15. Chapter 15

“Agent 4, eh?” The pink haired Octoling scratches his chin. “Hmm, I knew your name sounded familiar.”

Cordelia’s taken aback by his claim. She expected a look of surprise, a gasp, a cry of blasphemy; something… Not that her name rang a bell.

“You’re Cordelia Firthe—the Agent who brought the Great Zapfish back!” He says with excitement. She shouldn’t have underestimated a member of the Special Forces.

“I am…” That reminds her—if they knew she was a Firthe, she couldn’t let it slip that she found the Rainmaker document—not until she had a word with her father. There just  _had_ to be some backwards explanation for this insanity. Her father wouldn’t  _blindly_  help the Octarians unless he had a good reason. It was unlike him to keep a dark secret like that hidden from their family …unless, it wasn’t just him that was in on the secret. It’s more than possible that her mother knew as well. Cordelia doesn’t want to believe that her mother would allow this to happen. She wasn’t a pleasant woman, but she would never support the enemy—which at this point, were the Octarians. Cordelia’s decided—if her father’s willingly doing an act this heinous, it was behind her mother’s back.

Cordelia attention goes back to the pink haired Octoling. If he was aware of her identity, what else did he know? That didn’t matter, for now. She had to stay on topic. 

“As I was saying, I think that man was stalking me the moment I stepped into Octo Canyon—when I became Agent 4.”

He scratches his cheek. “I feel that if the Agents knew about this, they would have reported it to us.” Cordelia understands now that it was a foolish thing to neglect. She should have told Marie when she first noticed the man's presence. Cordelia can’t recall why she didn't tell the white haired Inkling. If she had, this man wouldn’t have had the opportunity to climb the ranks. She decides to withhold that she didn’t tell the Agents. She didn’t need him to see her as an incompetent Agent, especially now that she was deeply rooted in enemy territory.

“You said he was recently appointed, correct?”

“I did. But, it’s the strangest thing. I never imagined that in a million years, the Octarians would support an Inkling as their General. When I used to be in their ranks, an Inkling General would have been unheard of.”

Cordelia freezes. That  _Octarian_  General …was an Inkling?!

“I wouldn’t get too excited.” He reads her thoughts. “Remember, I’m an Octoling who technically works for Inkopolis.” That was true. Cordelia wanted to ask him why that was, however, right now wasn’t the best time.

“But  _what_  reason would any Inkling have to take down Inkopolis? It doesn’t make any sense.” More importantly, why would an  _Inkling_  be stalking her?

“It could be any reason.” Otis sighs. “To his credit, he didn’t seem like a malicious fellow. A little distant, but that can be expected with a new promotion.”

Hmm… If he just became an appointed General, it could have been possible for him to have traced her moves, undetected. If she was the reason that he earned his promotion…  _god_ , she didn’t even want to think about what that meant. If he knew about the Agents’ whereabouts …that would be the end of them. She’s never felt so foolish for omitting an important detail,  _ever_.  

“At any rate, he didn’t ask about any rogue Inklings, just came down for a quick check-up.” Otis sits on a stool as he picks up a file on the desk. He hands it to Cordelia. “See?”

Cordelia scans the paper—the damn sheet is in Octarian. She can’t read a bloody word. Even the name is spelled in Octarian characters. She shakes her head as she returns the file to him.

“I can’t read this.”

“Oh.” He grins sheepishly. “Right. The document only reports that he’s got a clean bill of health, his appearance, and birth date.

Not that it mattered, but Cordelia was always curious when it came to birth dates. Fortunately for her, she doesn’t have to ask.

“He’s thirty, half a year older than me.” Which, would make the doctor twenty-nine and a half years old. Interesting… from his gruff appearance, she would have guessed he was much older.

“Does it say anything else?”

“Not anything we can use.” He sighs as he closes the folder. “I’m a doctor, not a psychologist. There’s not much I can go on with a health record.”

That was unfortunate.

Otis changes the subject. “Your friend  _cannot_  cause trouble, especially when the General is here. They have incredible political influence, and if he’s caught… if any of us are caught. It could mean death row for the three of us.”

Well, that’s an unsettling thought. Damn, she hoped the Octoling wasn’t going to get them all killed.

Cordelia hears the strain in the pink haired Octoling voice. “Can you tell me where he went?”

“He wouldn’t say.” Cordelia ponders. The only information she got from the Octoling was he was going to find out the  _truth_ , whatever that meant. If he had been forthcoming on  _what_  that truth was, she could have been more helpful. “But, before I help you, you have to tell me. What are you doing here, and why are you helping the Inklings?”

“That’s a fair question.” He offers a seat to Cordelia. “I’ll try to summarize as best I can.”

Cordelia remembers Noralyn’s words; they met while he was spectating a Turf War, but she said he was working for Grizzco Industries, not that he was a doctor. She needed him to clarify.

“Your wife told me that you worked for Grizzco.” Cordelia crosses her arms in speculation.

“I did when I met her, yes. After my unit disbanded, I wanted to see what life above ground was like. I attempted to get a job through various medical clinics, but as soon as they saw what I was, I mysteriously didn’t get the job. The only place that didn’t seem to care about what I looked like was Grizzco, but collecting eggs wasn’t my forte. Working conditions were poor, and it was Noralyn who encouraged me to get back into medicine. She doesn’t know this, but I was scouted by my hiring manager at Grizzco to take a gig with the Special Forces—the only way I could revisit my love for medicine.  I told her I was now overseeing the health of my employees at Grizzco, but the catch was I had to work overseas for a while. You should have seen the excitement in her eyes, Cordelia. She wasn’t scared off by my past. In fact, she embraced it. It’s one of the many things I love about that woman.”

Cordelia has to admire his courage and his admiration for Noralyn. It was touching. One thing did puzzle her—why would Grizzco's hiring manager scout for the Special Forces? If she had to come up with an answer, she would guess it's because of the perilous work conditions. Retrieving eggs from the dangerous Salmonoids would be the perfect training grounds for would-be Agents. 

He continues, “I was attracted to her the moment I saw her in the stands.” His brown eyes practically sparkle. Cordelia gets nervous that he might continue the story from there—which, under normal circumstances would have been fine. But… their previous conversation about Noralyn in the elevator had been anything but appropriate.

Cordelia does her best to be polite as she changes the subject. “If you don’t mind me asking, what did you do  _before_  coming to Inkopolis? I know you mentioned you were part of a unit and were a doctor, but for where?”

“I used to live in Octo Valley. I served under an Octoling named Marina—I believe she’s now an Inkling Entertainer.” The way he phrases  _Inkling Entertainer_  is held with bitter intentions. This man seriously had a grudge against Inklings outside of his own family. “She was under orders to abduct a high-profile Inkling for two reasons. One was for political power. The other, for their biology.”

Cordelia recalls hearing a similar story from Pearl. She decides against interrupting the pink haired Octoling.

 “I remember the day that heavenly melody was played. I could see the change in Marina’s eyes—as well as my fellow brethren. Her first instinct was to escape with Pearl, but, she couldn’t do it until she had me take care of something…” He looks down at his feet as he crosses his arms.

“Which was?”

“Before she had met Pearl, Marina became a mother. Not by traditional means, however, a training accident had chopped a tentacle clean off her head. That tentacle grew into an Octarian boy, who was placed under my care.”

Marina …had a  _child?!_  Cordelia can’t even comprehend that thought—she had never seen any trace of an Octarian child when she and Marie visited the Idol duo.

He continues, “Marina was hoping it would grow into an Octoling so she could have him serve under her—guise him as a recruit to keep him close. You see, she didn’t want to part with the young one. But, we were so brainwashed at the time that reason wasn’t always at the forefront of our minds. I took it upon myself to take the child into safety, once I regained my proper state. Marina wanted to take the child into Inkopolis, but I persuaded her not to. Because it was chopped from her tentacle, it would have never formed into an Octoling, you see… it would have taken on the lowest form of an Octarian.”

“Where is the child now?”

“In Octo Valley—where Marina used to live. I took the Octarian to her mother—he’d have his best chance at happiness away from the scrutiny of Inkopolis if he was raised at home.” Cordelia didn’t want to admit that his bias was correct. An Octoling  _could_  pass in Inkopolis, but an Octarian with so few limbs wouldn’t easily be accepted into society. Cordelia hadn’t considered how unfair that was until this moment.  

“Otis, there’s something I have to tell you about Marina.”

She can’t stay silent about the idol. She had to tell him Pearl's story. 

“When the Rainmaker was stolen, Marina ran off, leaving Pearl a note. I can’t remember what it said in its entirety, but she stressed she had to save  _them_. Could one of them be her child?”

“I’m curious as to why the Rainmaker tipped her off, but yes, it’s her family that she would want to save.” He nods. “Octo Valley’s in rough shape, due to the Great Ocean rising. I can’t tell you what the Rainmaker would have to do with that.” His stares quizzically at the Inkling. “Our team still can’t find any leads as to who took it.”

Cordelia gets that sinking feeling in her stomach again—if the Special Forces couldn’t attribute the crime to anyone, then it had to be her family’s doing… Cordelia attempts to focus on the other tidbit of information. From what she remembers, her Octoling had mentioned something about the Great Ocean rising. Cordelia closes her eyes. He had said it was dire, but Cordelia thought he was the type to over-exaggerate.  

“Pearl came to me, hoping I could help. She got tipped on a secret passage to Octo Canyon, and I hadn’t heard from her since.” She looks to the floor. This was a huge mess. "If Marina went to Octo Valley to retrieve her family, then Pearl won't find her. We have to send someone out to look for her." 

“I understand your concern, but I wouldn’t underestimate Pearl.” It sounds like he’s talking from experience. “She’s tougher than you might realize.”

Cordelia takes a deep breath. His words do bring reassurance to her ears. She was impressed by his knowledge of the Octolings, Marina and even Pearl. Cordelia freezes as she realizes something. Maybe he knew her Octoling companion, or, at least heard of him. He was a known Elite—that surely earned him some kind of status in the Octarian social circle.

“Can you answer one question for me?” Cordelia feels her heart flutter as she speaks. “Do you know anything about a Radjerd Laurius?”

Otis’ eyes widen at the name. Uh oh, that wasn’t a good sign.

“I do.”

“And?” She crosses her arms.

“He’s the one you came here with, right?”

Cordelia frowns. Was she being  _that_  obvious?

“…Yes.” Her arms remain crossed.

“Don’t let his past jade your feelings for him.” It almost sounds like a warning.

“I wasn’t talking about that.” She lowers his eyes. “I asked you if you know anything  _about_  his past.”

Otis sighs. “Back then, we were all obedient soldiers. Some, more so than others, but I don’t see how that’s relevant now. I’m getting the sense that you’d find any reason to denounce him.”

“Denounce? That would imply that I  _want_  to think he’s evil.” She purses her lips as she breathes heavily through her nose. “So, clear my conscience. Tell me what he was like.”

“If you must know…” The pink haired Octoling shakes his head. “He was a troublemaker, who would constantly create chaos for other regiments. Even while under the influence, he was more of a leader than a follower. The higher-ups didn’t like him, and would often put him through rigorous training to downright suicidal missions. But, to their disappointment, he would always come back, seemingly stronger than before. He never seemed to be bothered about it from what I remember—rather—reveled in his unfavourable reputation. His own regiment had enough of his shenanigans and made a complaint. He was stripped of his title, but the last I heard, I think he took on a mission or two to try to reclaim it.”

Oof. Cordelia’s gut takes a hit. He was shunned because he didn’t learn how to follow orders. That …was eerily similar to her circumstance. She wasn’t expecting the pink haired Octoling to say  _any_ of the things he had said. She did feel like he had a fleeting loyalty to the Octarians, but she figured he was doing that to mess with her head in some way. She didn’t believe that it was true. In fact, her Octoling made it sound like he was well liked in the land of Octarians.

“He’s not malicious.” Otis’ eyes meet Cordelia’s. “He might be frivolous, but that’s the worst of his nature.”

"He wants to destroy the Research Facility." Cordelia crosses her arms as if she's trying to prove a point. Maybe in a backwards way, she was. 

"Oh!" His eyes grow wider with her accusation. "This is incredibly sticky... let's hope he doesn't succeed then." He seems pretty chill about the entire event, almost  _too_ chill. There was something about this man that she couldn't put her finger on, but she didn't like it. 

“So, how did you meet him?”  Cordelia figures that if he wasn't too worried about his plan, she could go back to fishing information out of the pink haired Octoling. 

“I was the doctor, remember?” He sighs. “He might have been an outcast, but it’s my medical duty to ensure that everyone gets a fair shot. Past his oddness, he’s a pleasant guy—despite his apparent act of treason. I can see why you chose to stick around.”  

She’d like to clarify that his frivolous nature was not the reason why she decided to keep his company, but that was confidential. Unlike this Octoling, she’d like to keep her personal life private. It was strange for her to internalize what he just said, because, while she wanted to believe him... Maybe, there was a chance that he’d want his fellow citizens to approve of him. If that was the case, she couldn’t allow him to stay in Inkopolis. Her heart sinks at the thought.

“But you said you worked as Marina’s Doctor. He would have been in Octo Canyon-“  

Otis’ pager beeps. He stares down at it. “I don’t think I have time to explain. I’m needed upstairs.” He stands up, directing Cordelia to the storage closet. “I’m sorry, but I can’t have you following me. Don’t worry about Radjerd. I’ll find him.”

“Look, I just told you I’m Agent 4.” Cordelia grumbles. “You don’t have to protect me.”

“You might be qualified, but right now, is not the best time to go on the offensive. I’ll find Radjerd, bring him back here, and we’ll come up with a plan. Trust me. If this facility gets blown up, it’s going to create chaos that we cannot come back from. It’ll be an act of terrorism.” There,  _that_ was the reaction she expected. 

Honestly, Cordelia couldn’t blame him for wanting to blow up the facility, given the Octarians’ treatment of him. She would have done the same to her family, given their unlawful positions… Her gut sinks at the thought of them. Unlike their strange treatment of her, this wasn’t something she could shelve for her convenience. The minute they got back to the surface, she had to pay a visit to her family. She needed answers. 

 “Fine. I’ll get back in the closet.” She slumps her shoulders as she walks into the metal contraption.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Cordelia, you have an attractive pout.” His deep chuckle radiates through the room as her cheeks flush. She rolls her eyes as she closes the door.  _Stupid Octolings._

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Otis reports as she can hear the door to the examination room close. She hears a beep, then, nothing.

He better not take too much longer, or she was going to have a fit.

 

Cordelia groans as she peers through the slit of the door. She can’t tell how long it’s been since the pink haired Doctor had left the room. Waiting has never been her strong suit—it was one of the many things she enjoyed about being Agent 4. No waiting required, just blast through her obstacles one by one. She deeply regrets leaving her Hero Shot behind. Cordelia sighs as she opens the closet door. Waiting has never been her forte—she had to act. 

Cordelia scans the contents of the examination room. There had to be  _something_  she could use to defend herself. She can’t read the labels but notices a colour chart by the vials. Red was the prominent colour, while black was on the bottom. She had no idea what it meant, but she gets an idea. She takes a green coloured vial from the wall and tips it onto the counter. Its velocity and texture were similar to ink…

Perfect!

She turns to the open closet and sees the goo-tuber. Maybe, if she gathered some of the vials together, they could provide some sort of liquid she could use to load the weapon. She didn’t consider how valuable her family’s regenerative Ink Tanks were until this moment. Even armed, she'd only get a few shots, but it'd have to make do. She takes the goo-tuber from the closet and unscrews the white cap on the barrel. She tips it upward as she collects the green vials from the wall, carefully pouring them into the barrel. She prays that this will be a lofty solution for the time being; that doctor couldn’t keep her locked down here forever. When she fills the barrel, she screws on the cap and secures it around her shoulder. Now was the time for her exit. Cordelia takes out the keycard from her pocket and sticks it in the door. With a satisfying clicking sound, it unlocks. 

Cordelia closes the door to the examination room as she sneaks around the hall. She hears the hum of the security camera, as Cordelia gets an idea. She aims the goo-tuber upwards and presses the trigger; the green sticky goop lathers the security cameras nicely. Score one for Cordelia!

She makes it for the elevator, quickly pressing the up-arrow. It would only be a matter of time before someone caught on. It was worth finding Otis, but her main priority was stopping that Octoling. Given his shaky history, there was no doubt that he wouldn't be spared if caught. 

No more hiding. Now, it was up to Cordelia to make some noise. 


	16. Chapter 16

Cordelia braces herself as the elevator travels upward. She grips the goo-tuber tight; her palms sweat against the plastic trigger. Days ago, she would have never imagined that she would end up here. Her mission, the Octoling, all of it—it was happening so fast. Within a week, her life became more than she had ever expected. Her lips curve into a grin; it was a roller coaster, but she knew that she’d come out of it on top. She always did. Her mental musings were just the encouragement that she needed to press onward. She closes her eyes as she hears the elevator beep. It’s now or never.

She’s brought to another floor—she doesn’t recognize the surroundings. Cordelia steps outside and surveys the area. She rests the goo-tuber on her shoulder as her eyes dart back and forth; metal tubing hangs from the ceiling. Unlike the rest of the facility, this room was damp, the smell of salt wafts through the air. She had pressed  _up_  on the elevator, right? Because there was no way a floor like this could be above any other. Maybe she was transferred to a different area entirely. If she was correct, she’d love to know how that was possible.

The Inkling couldn’t see what was ahead of her—the mist was handicapping her depth perception. The climate in this room was stark from the others, it baffles her. Cordelia’s grip on the goo-tuber tightens as she allows herself to press forward. She prays that there are no lurkers hiding in the cloud of mist ahead.

She can hear her soft footsteps echo as she walks. For a relatively large space, Cordelia is surprised by the lack of bodies inhabiting it. Up ahead, she sees a black metal fence lining the drop-off point. She walks up to it, placing her hand on the cool metal beam. It was a marvel just how deep this room was. She peers over the edge as her eyes widen in surprise.

A giant metal structure lies before her, appearing four stories deep. Cordelia concludes that this is why the room dipped down so far—to house  _whatever_  that thing was supposed to be. It’s a giant metal contraption that looks similar to a rocket. Was it an Octoweapon? Cordelia would have thought it impossible, but the Octo Shower had proved that the Octoweapons could easily be reactivated. The Octoling did mention that they had replacement power supplies, but to warrant a weapon this large—no—before Cordelia even attempted to figure that out, she had to find out what this  _thing_  even did. Cordelia scans the premises for clues, but the mist below limits her perception. Dammit. She makes an impulsive decision; this must be investigated. If she’s able to discover what this large contraption is, she might be able to save Inkopolis from its questionable fate. Seeing that scary hunk of metal alone had made this detour worth it.  

To her disappointment, she couldn’t find a stairwell. Cordelia steps into the elevator as she presses what she thinks is the down arrow. She feels the elevator going down, but it passes the next floor and the next… and the next… Oh  _no_. A sinking feeling in her gut tells her that this was no accident. Cordelia braces herself for the worst as she sees the Octarian text blink on the screen. Soon, the elevator stops and opens; a cloud of mist enters the space. The elevator brought her to her destination. Thank goodness. 

Cordelia feels a shred of embarrassment trickle into her gut. Now was not the time to be needlessly paranoid. It wasn’t like someone was screwing with the elevator on purpose. Cordelia attempts to clear some of the mist with her arm but to no avail. She senses that this mist might be housing something  _living_ ; why else would it be so damp in this one area? She braces her hand on the goo-tuber as she willingly leaves the safety of the elevator.

The path below her was dirt—she could feel the gravel below the soles of her Black Trainers. Was this some kind of greenhouse area—like she saw under the Experimentorium? Maybe it was the same idea, or, the water that those plant pots caught somehow got transferred to this place. The possibilities were endless. Cordelia notes the lack of bodies in the room slightly suspicious. Maybe this impeccable timing was a coincidence—there was no way that this place was left unguarded. Regardless of what the purpose of this room was, she would have at least imagined that it would have someone patrolling the premises. Unless… Maybe this place wasn’t as important as she thought it to be. If this was only for show, Cordelia would have to admit. She’d be greatly disappointed.

Cordelia positions herself appropriately as she hears dull clanging sounds in the distance. She aims the goo-tuber to her right—holding her aim steady. Mist encases the Inkling as she grips her weapon. She didn’t notice the watery air move so much before. If this room had its own irrigation system—that would explain why there weren’t many bodies here. She could feel the moisture stick onto her clothes; soon, she’d worry that the room may become inhabitable. But, Cordelia had remind herself, that would be the case if this mist was in fact, H2O. As the mist clears, she sees there’s a metal door attached to the tall structure. Her nerves increase as she gets closer. Cordelia isn’t sure if she should step inside, but she takes the initiative. Curiosity seeps into her mind—she had to know what was inside. She grabs the door handle and turns it. Why it was unlocked she wouldn’t know. But, she would take this as her stroke of good luck. Once inside, she scans for a light switch. To her dismay, she has trouble finding one.

Cordelia gasps.

The giant metal door close behind her. Instantly, the lights turn on around her as she sees capsules upon capsules of bodies huddled in the fetal position. Cordelia drops her weapon as she covers her eyes instinctively; it’s too much to handle. She’s seen things as Agent 4, she can’t deny that—but  _this?_ The green haired Inkling prepares herself as she lowers her hands. Taking a second look, she notices the hair spouted different breeds of cephalopod, not just Octolings. Was this the place where the drones were created? Cordelia looks around, up, and to her left. These beings were all different races. The Octolings she saw were all the same breed, and none of these beings matched the appearance of  _any_  of the drones that she had seen—they looked like Octoling grunts.

Her gaze comes back to a pod near to where she stood. Inside revealed a being who had tentacles from both the Inkling and Octoling races. The figure had pale skin. Its eyes were closed, but its eye markings looked identical to the markings she had. The shape of the body indicated female, and …there was a name on the bottom of the large pod.

Experiment 811—FAILED

This was absolutely horrifying! How in the world did the Octarians get their hands on this technology—and why did they attempt to  _fuse_  Inklings and Octolings together? Landon himself was proof that the two races could merge; even if his biology resembled the Inkling side of his family. It was a dark thought, but a just one.

If it was a failed experiment, Cordelia had to ask herself, why was it still here? It made her eerily uncomfortable that this particular  _failed_  experiment reminded her of Pearl’s story—Marina kidnapping her for her  _Inkling genetics._ Was this Pearl’s fate, to be fused with an Octoling—or even worse—Marina? She shudders at the thought. Cordelia takes a closer look. She can’t find the opening to the pod, but to her, the body inside appeared to be normal. If she had the means, this would be an interesting find for headquarters to examine—Otis could easily cart this clone to the surface with his massive arms. Problem was, the pink haired Octoling wasn’t anywhere near her. Cordelia leans near the tube and examines the rest of her surroundings. What  _was_  this place, and why did it exist all the way down here? If Cordelia could read Octarian, she may be able to find out. For now, it’d have to remain a mystery. Cordelia's attention is captured by her surroundings—she doesn’t hear the doors open behind her.

<Oh?>

Cordelia jumps at the voice—she’s afraid to turn around. It sounds familiar, but she can’t pinpoint the voice. It isn’t until she feels a cold hand on her shoulder that she freezes.

<You’re here? That’s unexpected.> Cordelia intuitively shuts her eyes. Her voice ...That couldn't be the Elite from earlier. If Freydis was patrolling the area, it would look mighty suspicious to why one of the Octoling’s captors was deep in the Research Facility. She  _knew_  they should have stuck with the  _Sacrificial Inkling_  plan!

<I would have sworn that by the way Radjerd was acting, he would have had you  _nested_  by now.>

 _Nested?_  Briefly, her gut swirls in excitement. She had no idea what the term meant, but if it’s to do that tongue of his—oh,  _god_ , not this again. She didn’t realize the mere mention of this man would get her bothered—now was  _not_  the time! Cordelia had to keep her wits about her. She needs to remember that the two Octolings—at one point—were an item. Unlikely as it seemed at the time, this girl could have unresolved anger for the Octoling, and take it out on the individual that she presumed to be his mate. It’s a shameful thing to admit, but it is something Cordelia would have done.

The green haired Inkling chooses to withhold her speech. From what Cordelia remembers, the Elite didn’t know she could speak the language.

<Since it’s just us girls, tell me…> The way Freydis licks her lips is worrisome, it’s like she can see through the lie. Cordelia backs up as the Octoling walks closer, her eyes narrowing on the Inkling. <You don’t seem too keen. Is he too much? I know he can open his mouth more than he should—believe me. Gets him into a  _lot_  of trouble.>

She wraps one arm around Cordelia’s waist; her gut dances with elation. Cordelia wants to groan—she didn’t need this. She had to keep her cool. The girl’s fingers trail around Cordelia’s ear, soon falling to her neck. Cordelia halts her breath as she …sniffs her?

<I don’t smell it.> She frowns. <Of course I don’t—he didn’t mark you—fucking bastard lied to me.>

More Octoling nonsense… Cordelia wasn’t going to focus on it—it didn’t matter—Freydis figured out the lie. Cordelia squid forms out of her grip and runs for her goo-tuber. Freydis is too fast, as she kicks the goo-tuber away with the back of her heel.  

The black haired Octoling lunges at Cordelia, stopping her with an arm lock. She is pelted against the wall—were all Octolings obsessed with pinning their attackers against vertical surfaces?! The Elite’s grip eases as she gently turns her around. Cordelia’s eyes widen as she sees the Octoling’s clear blue eyes stare back at hers. Her frown grows as she feels the cool barrel of the N-Zap press against her sweater.

<Explain yourself,  _Inkling._ >

Cordelia doesn't speak.

<Cut the shit. You wouldn't make it this far if you didn't understand our language.>

<I…> There was no way to explain herself that would make the Octoling girl trust her. She recognized that much.  Cordelia eyes the goo-tuber on the floor. It’s too far for her to grab it, but she needs to try. If the Octoling was right about Freydis’ taste for blood, she had to defend herself, and quickly. Cordelia squid forms again, getting attempts a roll, and successfully grabs the weapon, aiming it at the Elite. 

<I’d blame you for his treachery, but he’s been questionable from the start.> Freydis shakes her head as Cordelia’s finger rests on the plastic trigger. <Are you  _really_  going to shoot me with that dinky little toy?>

Cordelia aims for Freydis’ head as she squints one eye. <If you keep yammering, I will.>

<Good to know.> Freydis places a hand on her abdomen, surveying the room. <But, why come to a place like this? There’s nothing for your treacherous kind here, I can assure you.>

Cordelia hesitates; she doesn’t want to hurt her, but if the Elite were to attack, she'd have no choice. <I’m trying to prevent a war—the war that your kind has threatened us with.>

<So that’s why you’re here…> Freydis eyes her curiously. <I assume Radjerd snitched.>

<He has his own reason for helping me.> Cordelia wished she knew what that reason was. 

Freydis doesn’t move from her spot.

<This war isn’t going to help either one of us.> Cordelia attempts to reason with her. <It’s going to create more chaos, and drive our races apart.>

The Octoling girl’s stare narrows. <If that’s your story, then  _fine_. > She cocks her N-zap as she edges closer. <If you want to play with me, little Inkling girl, let’s  _play_. >

Cordelia dodge rolls out of Freydis’ fire, shocked to see the putrid green ink from her N-Zap melt straight through the metal. If that ink touched her... Cordelia holds her aim and fires at the Elite. The substance inside makes contact with her skin. Her grin grows wide when she sees the ink does nothing to her.  

_NO!_

Cordelia realizes that she can't win this fight. She chucks the goo-tuber aside and makes way for the door. She can hear the chill in the Elite’s voice as she exits.

<Come back here!> Freydis sings in a playful tone. <It’s no fun if you run away.>

Cordelia uses the mist to her advantage. If she can’t see a damn thing, neither can the Elite. The Inkling panics when she finds herself coming to a dead end. From above this place looked spacious, yet, the floor space was not as long as she had hoped it would be. She hears the Octoling’s laugh behind her. Cordelia surveys her surroundings to find an escape, but no luck. She hears the dirty hissing sound of the Elite’s toxic ink. Cordelia rolls again, doing her best to avoid the tainted ink. A squeak leaves her throat as she sees the Elite’s telltale form. Cordelia had no choice but to tackle the girl head on. She takes a leap and manages to run past her shots, using her own mass to take the Octoling girl down. Her menacing laugh fills her ears.

It’s  _horrible_.

<You are a feisty one. I can’t lie—I love that in a rival.> Her purr is cold, conniving. It sends a wicked chill down Cordelia’s being. The N-Zap lays beside Freydis—Cordelia lunges forward to snatch it. Wrong move, Cordelia soon learns as the Elite uses her imbalance to her advantage, settling her rear on Cordelia’s hips—rendering her helpless on her back. Cordelia grips the handle of the N-Zap as tight as she can, but Freydis rips it out of her hands.

<You’re weaker than I expected. All bark and no bite.> She bares her teeth. Cordelia flinches …she wasn’t going to try to  _eat_  her, was she? Cordelia notices something peculiar about Freydis. Something that she didn’t notice about the Octoling the first time they’ve met. Her abdomen was protruding—ever so slightly, but it was enough to notice.

_God…_

Cordelia wasn’t sure if she should feel guilty or have mad respect points for the Elite. There was no way she could attack a pregnant woman.  

This was a mess. Cordelia winces as she can feel the Octoling dig the barrel into the middle of her chest. She flinches as the girl’s arm presses against her neck. <Now, you’re going to be an obedient little Inkling and tell me where Radjerd is.>

Cordelia gasps for air—she can barely breathe! She chokes out, <I don’t know!>

<I doubt that.> Her grin grows wider as Cordelia feels her windpipe closing in. <I should have never agreed to help him.> Her tone sounds bitter.

Cordelia didn’t want to find out what she meant by those words.

<Don’t get upset now,  _Inkling_. The fun is just beginning. > She leans her head in. She grins as she digs her nails into Cordelia’s side, The clenching pain rips through her skin as she lets out a hiss. Freydis smiles even wider.

<There’s nothing like a satisfying kill to get you revved up.> Her words drip with desire. She places her knee between Cordelia’s thigh as she tugs at her sweater. <I won’t rough you up too much, because your body is  _more_  than worth its weight in coins.>

Cordelia wriggles but to no avail. This Octoling girl’s got her pegged. She feels her consciousness slip.

Then, silence.

 

Cordelia wakes up, specks of dirt lace her cheeks. Her body feels weary, but she hadn’t been covered in ink—thank the heavens. She pulls herself up, relieved she made it out of that skirmish alive. If Freydis had found her down here, who else knew of her infiltration? Speaking of the Elite …where did she go? It seemed rather uncharacteristic of the spritely Octoling to leave her business unfinished, however grateful Cordelia may be. All she can see is that pesky mist. For all she knows, Freydis could be using this as an opportunity to strike. Either way, she couldn’t stay in this place for much longer.

Something bothers Cordelia. What did the Elite mean when she said her body was worth its weight in coins? That was way too uncanny to be a simple expression. As Cordelia walks around, she stumbles over an obstacle.

She looks down to see a mass of black tentacles, mixed with a slumped form of who she could only identify as Freydis.  W-was she… Cordelia leans in, much to her caution. She still had a pulse, but, if she was out cold like that—something else was here. If Cordelia were in her right mind, she would have left Freydis to die. But… Cordelia groans. What kind of an Inkling would she be if she left a wounded individual—never mind a pregnant one—unconscious in the dirt. She grumbles as she kneels down to the Octoling. She eyes the Ink Tank on her back as a smile graces her lips. Cordelia didn’t say anything about  _stealing_  from the needy. She strips the Octoling of her weapon, and Ink Tank. She secures it on her back, grabbing the N-zap from her weary hand. She shoots the ink—noticing the acid texture is gone—now adapting to her own ink—a lime green. Now that she was fully armed, the Elite would pay. Cordelia nudges the Elite with her foot. 

<Nngh…> is the noise that escapes the black haired Octoling’s lips.  

<Get up.> Cordelia not so gently nudges the Octoling’s shoulder.

<Ow!> She hisses as her blue eyes open, challenging Cordelia’s. <That bastard didn’t finish you off, I see.> She wearily mutters. <That fucking Inkling… They’re all fucking traitors.>

Cordelia’s eyes widen in surprise. An Inkling saved her? How was that possible? Unless...  _Oh no..._

<Don’t look so surprised.> She humphs. <The General was the one who ordered me down here for the hell of it all.> She shakes her head, Cordelia guesses, to better clear her mind. <He saw that there was suspicious activity, and thought me to be the best for the job. I didn’t think he’d turn on me!> She cusses as she leans upward.

Cordelia couldn’t believe that. It sounded too farfetched to be true. Not that she was worried, she was the one with the gun. It would be  _her_  that demanded the answers.

<You’re going to shoot me now, I guess.> Freydis sighs. <I could ask you not to, but I know how that’d turn out.>

<I’m not going to shoot you.> Cordelia says, finding her previous thoughts ironic. <I do however, like to make deals.>

That seems to pique her interest. <And what kind of deal is that?>

<I need you to be honest with me.> Cordelia holds out a hand to Freydis. She takes Cordelia’s hand, using her as a balancing beam. <That means I need you to answer me truthfully, no matter the topic. If you can promise me that, I can guarantee your safety.>

< _My_  safety? You’re just lucky the wind’s knocked out of me. The minute I feel my strength kickin’ in, you’re on your ass.> Well, that was a less than eloquent way of putting Cordelia into perspective. She wasn’t sure if the Elite agreed with her plan, or not. With a statement like that, she wasn’t sure what to expect.

<I know this might be none of my business, but …why are you fighting in your delicate condition?>

<Delicate?! Hah!> Freydis laughs. <Don’t sucker into that nonsense. Our bodies are made for this—we don’t need to be  _protected_  because men don’t understand what it’s like …like my partner. He’s a total worrywart.> Oh boy, Cordelia was  _not_  expecting an answer like that.

Her expression softens when she says, <Obviously I didn’t tell him or he’d demand that I step down—which I’d never do on his orders. To be honest, Inkling, you’re the only one who’s noticed.> She cocks her head to the side as her stare grows curious. <Now, why would that be…?>

Cordelia remains silent; she didn’t have an explanation as to why she noticed Freydis’ condition. It’s not like she was around expectant women—ever. This was her first time. Perhaps it was women’s intuition… Was that even a thing?

<Oh no, did Radjerd steal you from your little Inkling family?! I knew he could be reckless, but I would have never pictured him to be so bold—to take another’s wife against her will—the absolute travesty!>  

<No!> Cordelia blurts out. <N-no, I don’t have a husband, or kids. I’m not old enough for that!> He didn’t  _steal_  her from anyone. 

<Are you sure?> Freydis wears a weary smirk. <You look of breeding age to me.>

She groans, outwardly. No matter which Octoling she spoke to, they were all insufferable.

<You have a bump—a small bump, but it’s still there. It was hard not to notice when you pinned me down.>

Freydis lets out a weak chuckle. <Good eye, Inkling.>

Cordelia gets a strange sensation while talking with the Elite. Moments ago they were at each other’s throats, and now, they’re talking about her baby that her partner doesn’t even know about. Cordelia should expect this by now… life was never as it seemed.

The two walk in silence as they make their way to the elevator. Cordelia waits until she gets Freydis inside before she asks her the most pressing question yet—what did she see in that tower? All those fetus like creatures with little to zero explanation was one way to get the imagination working against her. She wasn’t sure if the Elite would tell her—maybe she should wait.

Freydis pushes a button as they descend further down. Cordelia can’t hide her nervous glances, which, the Elite definitely notices.

<What?>

<I don’t know where you’re taking me, so I have the right to be suspicious.> Cordelia crosses her arms as she lifts up her chin.

<We’re going to the bunker so we can talk.> Freydis sighs. <Just to be on the safe side.>

Yeah, Cordelia figured that was the case. But, she wasn’t expecting the Elite to take her to a bunker …and why would a bunker be underneath the Research Facility? She was a fool to think that this would have been a simple in-and-out kind of mission. She had no idea where Otis—or the Octoling she came here with—were. The alarm didn’t go off as of yet, so that was a good sign. Maybe Otis found him and they had a polite conversation. Or, the most likely scenario, Otis didn’t find him. Cordelia mulls over a few more thoughts before bringing her attention back to the Elite. The sudden jilt of the elevator obstructs Cordelia from her thoughts. Nerves seep into her gut as the doors open. The first thing Cordelia notes is …it’s hot! She pulls at her collar as an attempt to relieve herself. Cordelia opens her eyes to discover a maze of pathways.

<I’ll tell you where to go.> Her voice remains soft. Cordelia allows the Elite to lean against her as they travel down the narrow hallway—she indicates to turn right—leading them to stop at a door. The Elite opens the door to reveal a bed, a chair and an end table. The light was still on—if it weren’t, the area would be pitch black. Freydis sits on the bed as she gestures Cordelia to sit on the chair. The Inkling closes the door behind her before taking the hint. She slips off the regenerative Ink Tank and places it to the right of her, away from the Elite’s reach. She places the N-Zap alongside it.

<Clock’s ticking, Inkling.> She crosses her arms. <Spit it out.>

<Spit what out?>

The Elite rolls her eyes. <Don’t play dumb. What do you want me to tell you?>

Cordelia leans forward and folds her hands together. <Can you explain what I saw in that tower?> 


	17. Chapter 17

<Hmm. Let me think about that…>

Freydis folds her leg over the other as she leans back on the mattress—it looks comfortable. Cordelia wished that she had a mattress to lie on; she was  _exhausted._ This may have been the busiest day she’s had yet. Down here, it was hard to gauge the time, but she knew a considerable amount of time has passed. Even when she performed her duties as Agent 4, Marie had called in for her to take a break once in a while. Cordelia leans her back against the chair, as she stares up at the dusty ceiling.

The Elite taps her abdomen as she processes her thoughts. Cordelia isn’t sure if she’s ready to hear it—there was no great way to explain  _why_  the Octarians were doing this. But, Cordelia had to know. She had to be careful what she said next. Even though she had decided to be empathetic towards the Octoling girl, she couldn’t assume that she would cooperate based on that alone. If the Elite decided to strike, Cordelia  _knew_  she would lose. As proven countless times—she was not well versed in hand to hand combat.

The Elite lets out a firm, <No.>

<Why not?!>

Freydis brushes a strand of hair from her face, focusing on the multicoloured mess that was her tentacles. She wouldn’t be surprised if the Elite attempted to switch the subject.

<It’s complicated. What I can tell you though is those experiments have nothing to do with the war.> That was hard to believe, especially with the drones running around back at Sturgeon Shipyard—and god knows where else they had surfaced since her departure. Cordelia feels that she should shift her focus to the drones that she  _had_  seen. There may be a small chance she might open up; Cordelia knows that it wasn’t likely, but it was worth a shot. The worst she could do was stay silent.  

<When I was in Inkopolis, I found these drone-like creatures who looked like Octoling grunts—but they weren’t.> Cordelia motions her hands around her head as she describes their appearance. <Red hair, lifeless eyes—oozed  _yellow_  ink when shot.> The Inkling was  _not_  expecting the Elite stare at her with bewilderment. <Can you help me understand where they came from?>   

Any trace of cooperation Cordelia may have felt with the Elite has dissipated—dammit, she grumbles to herself. She shouldn’t have mentioned the word  _help_ …

<Yeah, I should have figured that’s what Radjerd was up to…> She shakes her head in defeat. <No matter how much I told him to keep out of military affairs, he just wouldn’t listen to me. Had to take it upon himself to get rid of them—I can understand why he was demoted.>

Cordelia raises a brow. She had said nothing of the Octoling. Yet, the Elite’s words have implied that he had encountered them before—possibly even attempting to stop them himself. She shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, she knows next to nothing about that Octoling. Not that she had the time to get to know him personally, well, besides his well-toned physique—

_God Dammit Cordelia! Focus!_

<He might have  _asked_  for my help.> If Cordelia chooses to be honest, that might encourage the Elite to do the same. It was unlikely, but it was still worth a shot. <After we saw those  _things_ up above, he had asked me to pose as a hostage so he could get into the Research Facility—so he could destroy it.>

<I should be shocked, but I’m not. That was a very dangerous thing he had asked you to do—you  _know_  what happens to Inklings down here?> Her look of suspicion doesn't go unnoticed by Cordelia. <But to escape my fire so fluidly, I guess that you  _did_  know what you were up against.>

Cordelia keeps calm. There was no way that Freydis could identify her as Agent 4.

<I knew there would be risks.> She begins.

The Elite’s lips curve into a grin. Cordelia’s surprised she doesn’t seem fazed by her reveal. The Octoling planned to  _destroy_  the Research Facility, yet, Freydis doesn't seem to care.

<Do you get off on acting like a frail little girl—or do you like to be cradled in those  _big strong arms_  of his?> She cuts Cordelia off. <I totally understand,  _trust me_. It’s fun to role-play once in a while. >

She couldn’t be serious. Cordelia bites her lip, trying her best to stifle an oncoming blush. She would rather the awkwardness of hiding her true identity than  _this_  again. The worst part was, Freydis was right. She reveled in the Octoling’s embrace.

<I did  _not_  agree to that plan.> Cordelia frowns as she crosses her arms. <He’s the one who came up with  _that_. > She didn’t want to get into explicit detail—both knew what he had said. Cordelia wishes she could forget it had ever happened.  

<For a lie, it sounded mighty convincing.> The Elite hums. <I’m guessing you two have done more than exchanged pleasantries.> Her head perks up. <C’mon, you can tell me.>

Cordelia can’t bear to speak.

<You mean you’re going to hold on to the juicy details?> She grumbles. <Well, suit yourself,  _Inkling_. >

<Cordelia.> She mutters. <My name’s Cordelia.>

<Cordelia?> The Elite lifts her head up. She lets out a long drawn whistle. <Fancy.>

The green haired Inkling allows the Elite to tease her. It’s better than her derogatory  _Inkling_  tone… Cordelia inwardly hisses as she realizes that she did the exact same thing to the Octoling… Shit.

<So, how did you meet my good ol’ friend? Is  _that_  too hard to ask?>

<No.> Cordelia says indignantly as she turns her shoulder away from the Octoling girl. <We met through chance, and by a fluke, had the same goal.>

<He seemed mighty warm to you, Cordelia. I swore if I had stayed any longer, he would have devoured you right in front of me.> Judging by the Elite’s sinister grin, she would have  _loved_  to watch. Cordelia inwardly sighs. This was  _not_  what she wanted to discuss. Maybe, if she let out one single tidbit, it’d encourage the Octoling girl to lay off.

<Fine.> Cordelia spits out as s nasty crimson blush stains her complexion. <We had …relations.>

< _Relations?!_ Oh my god!> The Octoling girl holds a hand in front of her mouth to prevent a giggle. <Just say sex, woman! It’s not going to kill you!>

Cordelia doesn’t dignify her with a response. Octolings were the crudest species to walk this earth.

<Are you done?> The Inkling scoffs.

<You’re so  _proper_ , I’m intrigued. I should start calling you Princess.> She licks her lips. <It suits you.>

A groan escapes the green haired Inkling’s lips. She needed to change the subject, fast.

<For what it’s worth,  _Freydis_ , he felt guilty about lying to you.>  

Shock graces the Octoling girl’s face. <You know who I am then?>

<I do…> She closes her eyes before speaking again. <And, that’s what he addressed you as, back at Slimeskin Garrison.>

<Right… It’s hard to picture you as the same Inkling. You looked so demure,  _helpless_. > She gets the impression that the Elite  _liked_  that depiction of her.

She doesn’t take long to get back on topic. <It sounds just like Radjerd to feel guilty over a lie.> Cordelia wouldn’t be wrong to guess that the Elite’s moral alignment was not high.

Freydis raises her chin as her curious eyes examine Cordelia. <I’m guessing it's after he seduced you that he asked you to help him?> She winks.

<T-that’s not!> She scoffs. Why was it that any time she thought of their conversation, her next thought would make anyone die of embarrassment? She holds her knees together as her toes curl. That damn Octoling can’t even be referenced without thinking about that luscious tongue of his.

<H-he didn’t!>

<Save your breath.> She grins as her tone salivates. <If anyone can understand those sweet,  _sweet_  flashbacks, it’s me.> Oh. Right. Hearing Freydis say that doesn’t bring Cordelia comfort. Apparently, she did not hide that thought well. <I didn’t mean to wedge that in. Just trying to sympathize.>

<It’s not what you think.> Cordelia crosses her arms as she challenges the Elite’s playful look. <We’re not together.>

Freydis chuckles. <Did you tell him that?>

<Yes!> Cordelia stresses, soon realizing how loud her voice was. She lowers her tone. <He’s just a troll. Like all of you...>

<Like all of us, hmm?> Freydis grins as she shakes her head.

<Yes. All your kind’s ever done was tease me the moment I arrived.> She lowers her brows. The three Octolings she met within the last week was enough to confirm; their entire species was insufferable.  

<I’ll take that as a compliment.> The Elite shrugs her shoulders. <It’s better than the zero-humor you Inklings seem to possess.>

Cordelia decides enough is enough. Their banter was getting tiring. 

<Freydis, is there anything you can tell me about those grunts I saw up above? They looked like drones.>  

The Elite’s off-put by Cordelia’s sharp change in subject matter, but she goes along with it. <There’s a factory underground. You need to get on the Deepsea Metro to get there—but, you also need special clearance. They’re going to take one look at you and deny entrance.> Her smirk grows wider. <No Inklings allowed.>

She had never heard of the Deepsea Metro before, but she never needed to venture this far underground. One thing was certain, however. The drones that he wanted to destroy, weren’t even in this building.

<We should get out of the facility.> Cordelia suggests to the Elite. <If he does succeed, we’re screwed.>

<Are you scared, Princess?> She does not like that moniker. <This is my personal bunker, where I store clothes, supplies, whatever is necessary—except I don’t have any weapons. You have the only one.> She frowns. <Let Radjerd destroy the place. Everything inside has measures to prevent destruction, he should know that. His vigilante nature has always clouded his focus—it’s why I couldn’t stay with him.>

<Because he’s not smart, or he’s a lawbreaker?>

<Both. I was hoping he’d grow out of it, but he never did.> She takes a quick glance of her nails and cleans them before continuing. <I tried to get him back on track, but …you see how well that’s turning out.>

Tried to get him back on track? Cordelia’s unsure what the Elite is alluding to.

<What do you mean?>

<Who do you think convinced the higher-ups to get him the retrieval mission?> She raises a brow. <It wasn’t him.>

Cordelia was  _sure_  that the Octoling had told her that he didn’t know  _who_  gave him the orders… But Freydis here, she  _spoke_  to the higher-ups… Something wasn’t adding up. She decides to keep her thoughts to herself and ask a question that’s been on her mind ever since she arrived.

<Do you know  _why_  he wants to destroy the facility?>

<If he thinks the drones are created here, that’d be reason enough. He’s always  _hated_ the idea. Hits too close to home, you know?>

Cordelia blinks. What was that supposed to mean?

Freydis doesn’t stop there. <Us Elites are technically drones ourselves, or, at least that was our intended purpose—to fight without question, to take orders without rebuttal. What he doesn’t realize is that we’re nothing like today’s soldiers. We started as the culmination of our strongest Octarians.> She smirks. <Think of us as your cousins,  _centuries upon centuries removed._ >

Everything made sense now. The Octoling couldn’t stand to see drones running about—because in some warped perspective, all he saw in them was himself. Cordelia feels a pang in her gut. That’d be a hard truth to swallow. But, there was one thing she didn’t get.

<How are  _we_  related?>

<How do you think we evolved into taking on this form? We needed some genetic help of our Inkling captives.> She moves closer. <And thus, the Octoling was born. I can tell you, we’re a lot more attractive today than what we were in the past.>

Cordelia is  _not_ going to think about the semantics of what she was implying. But, there was one question she had. It was doubtful that Freydis could answer it, but she was curious... 

<If that's the case, then why are the offspring between Inklings and Octolings born as one or the other? Why don't they merge into another species?>

<I don’t know the full story, but my guess is to prevent further cross-breeding. Our scientists likely put that measure into place when they discovered that we were genetically compatible. Don’t want create a whole new subspecies, do we?> She smirks. <You’ll have nothing to worry about—unless your kid’s born an Inkling, then, we might have a problem.>

<I wasn't asking for myself!> She grumbles. <Before you even assume it, I’m  _not_  pregnant!> She narrows her eyes at the Octoling girl. One could never be confident in that statement when intimate with another, but the odds were in Cordelia's favour. She wouldn’t allow something like that to happen.  

<Chill out, I never said you were. No need to be so touchy.> Freydis' laugh echoes through the room. Cordelia’s not going to entertain this conversation any longer.

 _ <Moving on…> _ The Inkling's tone drips with disdain.

The Elite motions for Cordelia to sit next to her. <You might be less cranky if you come lie down. Keep your shoes on, I don’t care.>  

Cordelia crosses her arms. At first, it seemed like a terrible idea, but her body yearns for comfort. This chair was not doing her any favours. Cordelia stands up as she makes her way to the edge of the bed. The Elite moves over as she pats the spot beside her.

<It’d be no fun hurting you, now that I’ve gotten to know you. I’ve had those days with those dark circles under my eyes.> She’s right. Cordelia felt  _exhausted._ Against her better judgment, Cordelia crawls next to the Elite, positioning herself on her back.

She can feel the Elite’s sea blue eyes linger on her frame. <You know, you have the cutest little nose.>

<What?!> Cordelia turns to her. She instinctively covers it, muffling her speech.  

<You do.> She grins, inching herself closer. <It’s cute, like a button. Mine’s all long and pointy.> Cordelia turns away as she feels a blush coming on. This was absolutely insane. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think the Elite was  _flirting_  with her.

<Relax, I’m not going to jump you—I told you I was a taken woman. I’m just admiring the view.>

Okay, so she  _was_  flirting with her.

<U-um.> Cordelia feels her heart hammer against her chest. Just her luck that the two Elites that she get herself acquainted with were flirtatious as hell.

<How did you meet your current partner?> She wants the attention off of her. <Was he in your regimen?>

<He was…> She grins. <He soon retired, taking on a quieter career as an accountant. He wasn’t the aggressive type, and I could see that from the moment I trained him. It’s how we got close.> She gently rubs her midsection. <The kid was his idea, not mine.>

<Oh?> Cordelia leans her head up to get a better view.

<It was part of our contract.> She meets Cordelia’s eyes. <He wanted me to back out of the military; find a quieter, safer career. It’s why I didn’t tell him yet.>

<When are you going to tell him?>  

<I…I don’t know.> She frowns, turning her head away. <I didn’t expect one of our Generals to turn on me—ever. I’m thankful that I got knocked out—but it got me thinking… Maybe I am doing a disservice to my child by staying in the military.>

Cordelia has a compelling urge to give the Elite a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She doesn’t follow it; that would be too much for the Inkling to handle.

<If my arm was against your neck any longer, I could have killed you. I’m glad I didn’t succeed.> She lets out a soft laugh. <I’m also wondering… why would the General try to protect you?>

<…I was wondering the same thing.> Cordelia can’t admit to the Elite that she is Agent 4.

The Octoling girl did have an excellent point—why did that Inkling General save her? It hits Cordelia—he  _had_  to be undercover. No… If he was, Otis would have recognized him. Unless he too was hiding the truth from Cordelia… It was too much to think about right now.

<A right shame you’re an Inkling, Princess.> Freydis playfully nudges her shoulder, seemingly getting her energy back. <I’m starting to get a soft spot for you.>

<Oh?> She’s not sure how to respond to the Elite’s forwardness. Her eyebrows perk up as she examines Cordelia’s frame. She swears, if she was going to do any more of that Octoling weirdness…

<I’m seriously surprised that Radjerd hadn’t marked you. I would have if I were him.> She hums, continuing before Cordelia has the chance to cut her off. <Or maybe he has, and Inklings just don’t give off that same sweet smell.>

God,  _not_  this again…

<No. He hasn’t, and no such thing is happening,  _ever_. > Cordelia growls. <I am  _not_  his.> 

Freydis leans up, giving the green haired Inkling a quizzical stare. She leans her arm away from Cordelia and laughs.

<Clearly you don’t know what it is…> The Elite sighs. <It’s not a possession of ownership, it’s a show of compatibility. Trust me, you would have noticed if he had tried—it’s the greatest rush of your life, I can promise you.> Her tone deliciously laps up her own words.  

Cordelia isn’t sure she wants to find out what Freydis was referring to—ever. Octolings were strange enough as it is. Their culture alone would take  _years upon years_ of study before she would gain an understanding. She leaves her eyes closed as she takes a deep breath.

<Nothing like that’s going to happen, I assure you.>

<You’ll be singing a different tune  _when_  it happens, don’t you worry.> Cordelia doesn’t see the Octoling girl’s wide grin. <And, it will happen. He’s already promising his allegiance to you, sacrificing his own head for your cause—as foolish as that may be.>

<More like the other way around.> Cordelia grumbles. <I’m the one risking my life down here.>

<Suppose both of you are exchanging allegiances, then. You’re just furthering my point, Princess.>

Cordelia resentfully rolls her eyes. She hates that Freydis is right.

A sharp yawn escapes her lips. <Y’mind if I shut my eyes for a bit?> She snuggles into her pillow as she angles her head towards Cordelia.

<Go ahead.> It’s not like she was going anywhere.

<Don’t leave me here. I’ll feel quite betrayed if you do.> She grins wearily as she snuggles herself into the mattress. <Maybe you should get some rest too.> 

She’s right—Cordelia can feel her muscles ache. Today had been non-stop event, after event. She allows her body to sink in the mattress, allowing her mind to wander. She frowns when she sees her father’s face. The last thing that she wants to think about—the conversation she’d have to have with Marie. She needed the white haired Inkling’s help to confront her father. If he was behind this, he could be sent to jail, sending their family into financial ruin. No… That was  _not_  going to help her here.

The only thing that could help Cordelia now, was rest.

 

Wakefulness comes to Cordelia, slowly, but surely. She opens her eyes; her surroundings are unfamiliar to her.  Right… It takes her a moment before she remembers she’s underground. How long had she been asleep for? She jumps when she hears the soft restful breaths of the Elite—who’s asleep on her side, faced away from the green haired Inkling.

Cordelia would be lying if she didn’t admit surprise. She was almost expecting to see her alone in this room, with no N-Zap to be seen. Maybe Octolings did stick by their word, which, gave Cordelia relief. Except, she couldn’t stay down here anymore. She had to go find the Octoling and get out of here. Destroying this place would put him on a wanted list, as Otis had mentioned. If the drones weren’t here, it would be a senseless risk.

Cordelia minds her movements. She doesn’t want the stir the Elite out of her rest. Carefully, she leans off of the mattress and tiptoes towards the chair. She reaches for the N-Zap and the Ink Tank, which she carefully places around her shoulders. She sees a folded square on the ground—oh! The paper she found at the lab must have fallen from her sweater. She quickly picks it up and stuffs it in her pocket. Cordelia freezes when she hears the sheets rustle.

<Where are you going?> Her soft tone barely reaches Cordelia’s ears. She sits herself up. Moving a lot more fluidly than she had before—the nap must have been exactly what the Freydis needed. <You can’t find him alone.>

Cordelia’s mouth forms into an O shape as her brows raise.

<Don’t look surprised. To be honest, I’m worried about him too.> Her sea blue eyes moisten, implying that wants to say more, but she withholds from doing so. <You’ll need my help navigating this place.>

But, if she was to go around with Freydis, would she have to play hostage again? She was  _not_  interested in revising that role.

<I’m not acting as a prisoner again, if that’s what you were going to suggest.>

<I didn’t.> She grins. <Lucky for you, I have some extra clothes we can dress you in.> She lifts the sheets, revealing a storage area under the mattress. She pulls out a drawer to reveal a couple of black shirts and leggings.

<Let’s see if you can fit into these. You’re not that much thinner than I am.> Cordelia would beg to differ; reminded of the Octoling girl’s well-grown features. Cordelia couldn’t even compare; when it came to her chest size, Freydis won the genetic lottery. The green haired Inkling looks at the cropped shirt and long pants. Cordelia gets what Freydis is trying to do, but wearing these garments wasn’t going to hide the fact that she was an Inkling. Maybe it would help her blend in, but beyond that? Cordelia slips off the Ink Tank and places the N-Zap on the chair. 

<Put these on.> She hands Cordelia the fitted top and leggings. Cordelia had to debate where she was going to fit her radio. With tight fitting clothes like these, that was going to be a hard sell. But, she concedes. She sees as the Octoling girl stares at her curiously as she doesn’t move.

<What?>

<Do you mind turning around?> Cordelia would rather the Elite give her some space.

<Why? We’re all girls here.> Her smile grows wide.

Cordelia feels her face grow red as she turns away from Freydis. She slips off her sweater, ensuring that the radio and the folded paper stays within her pocket. When it came to her t-shirt, she wasn’t comfortable taking that off in front of the Octoling girl. She squeaks when she feels Freydis’ fingers tug at the bottom.

<You’re going to take forever if you do it yourself.> She speaks close to Cordelia’s ear. She pulls Cordelia’s shirt over her head and throws it on the bed.

Cordelia feels the cool air on her back as the realization sets in that the only top she’s wearing is a lacy black bra. She turns around, holding her arms close to her chest.  

<You have nothing to be embarrassed about.> Freydis smiles as she lowers the Inkling’s arms. <You are smokin’.> She hands Cordelia the shirt. <This will stretch—should be a snug fit.>

Cordelia slides the sleeveless shirt over her head, adjusting it to her chest. Everything seemed to fit nicely—the material could breathe against her skin. The one negative—it sat inches above her navel.

<Now for your shorts.> Cordelia grabs them before Freydis got any ideas and slides them off quickly. Cordelia grabs the leggings from the bed and slips them on just as fast. They were a little long in the leg, but overall they fit nice. She hears Freydis make a sly comment about  _shaping her rear nicely_ , but Cordelia does her best to ignore it.

<Despite how pale you are, you work nicely in black—especially with your multicoloured tips. Your hair is so long.> Freydis grins. <I have an idea how we can accentuate that lovely black.>

God, they were  _still_  dark? Cordelia feels an oncoming blush.

Soon, the Octoling girl grabs both her tentacles as she gently ties them into some kind of pattern. It brings her back to when she was a child—her mother would do her hair up in a bow before she’d be debuted at her mother’s social gatherings.  

<There.> She grins. <From the back, you’d think your tentacles were completely black.> Cordelia pats her hair, feeling the hoops that she hadn’t felt since childhood.

<I don’t have anything that will cover your eyes, but I have a jacket that fits right in with our style.> Cordelia is surprised to see a leather jacket that is similarly designed to the Octoling’s. She was expected to wear  _that_? That would leave her mid-drift exposed—like it is right now.  <C’mon, it’ll look great on you.>

She slips the jacket over Cordelia’s arms, taking the time to zip it up for the Inkling. After a quick adjust of the collar, Freydis gives her a final once over.

<Alright.> Cordelia doesn’t know what she looks like, but the Elite looks impressed. <No one’s going to sniff you out in this getup.> The Inkling’s not positive, but she admires Freydis’ gusto. <Keep the weapon, but don’t use it unless you have to. We Octolings don’t mindlessly shoot our surroundings unless we have to defend ourselves.> Cordelia feels slightly insulted. Freydis didn’t know her personally but, when left up to her own devices, she did enjoy inking the town green. A smile crosses her lips when she remembers Marie’s face. She couldn’t believe that was almost a week ago now.

Sheesh… a day or two shy of a  _week_  and that’s all it took for her to end up here. She feels slightly ridiculous in this outfit, but if it helped her blend in, then it was worth some minor embarrassment.

<Your black sneakers should work fine. Make sure to take whatever belongings you have in your pockets—you might not see those items again.>

Cordelia frowns. The sweater she wouldn’t miss, but those were her favourite shorts! A sigh escapes her lips.  No matter, she thought. She would buy another pair. Cordelia reaches for her sweater and slips the piece of folded paper into her breast pocket. The radio to her surprise fits snug in her waist pocket. She zips it up for good measure. She threads her arm through the hoops of the Ink Tank Holder as she grabs the N-Zap.

<Expect it to be  _packed_  upstairs, especially if the General is here.> Freydis warns. <And remember, do not shoot unless absolutely necessary.>

<I won’t.> Cordelia nods before taking one last look of her surroundings. If she made it out of this one, she’d label herself the luckiest Agent alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe that My Lie to Keep has reached 1000 hits. My heart is so incredibly full right now, I can't even comprehend the joy I feel. What started off as an impulse thought a month (and 2½ weeks ago), became something much more than I had anticipated. Writing this fic has been an absolute joy for me, and to those who have left me a kudos, and to those who left comments on the chapters and on tumblr, (and to those who have also bookmarked/subscribed--I see you :P) I can't even describe how honoured I am. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to share your thoughts on this fic. <3 <3 <3 
> 
> UPDATE SCHEDULE:  
> Since the weather outside is getting warmer, I have decided to cut back on the chapters I have been posting. Instead of sporadically updating x2 a week, I will be cutting it down to x1 per week, releasing a new chapter:
> 
> Sunday between 8-10PM (AST). 
> 
> My promise to you is that if a chapter cannot be posted, or released, I will leave a note on the current chapter, stating why a chapter won't be posted the following week, although I don't anticipate that being anytime soon. :)
> 
> I would like to add that it is NOT because I'm losing interest in the story. I don't think that's possible, I'm in too deep! It's because the weather outside is getting nicer, and I want to go outside more, take more walks, enjoy the sunshine! This doesn't mean that this schedule is for good. If it's a particularly rainy week, you'll probably see an additional chapter posted. Or, I just have the inspiration to write, and I post 2 chapters anyway. I love to write. This new update schedule just gives me some flexibility to enjoy the outside weather :D. 
> 
> ...and lastly, you may have noticed that the chapter expectancy has went up from 23 to 31. That's right—this story has just become even longer than it was before!
> 
> God, I love you all so much. Thanks for making my experience on AO3 so wonderful! Your feedback has truly made this experience a fantastic one. It has changed my life, truly. 
> 
> All my love,  
> Rose


	18. Chapter 18

Cordelia carefully watches Freydis as her fingers input a code into the keypad—numbers fly across the screen above. Both remain silent. Cordelia couldn’t deny that she was relieved about one thing; the Octoling hadn’t decimated this building, but she was worried about the radio silence on his end. Given that the two didn’t have any way to communicate, that should have been expected. A sudden bout of worry overtakes her. If the Octoling had been hurt—or caught by that creep of a General, she would make him pay. That Inkling would not make it out  _unscathed_.

For the first time in a while, Freydis speaks. <The destruction mechanism is two floors above.> She says flatly. <If Radjerd is anywhere, it’s going to be where the switchboard is—one quick overload of that thing, and the place will explode.>

Cordelia nods. What she says makes sense. Within seconds, they arrive at the floor. Freydis holds the elevator door open for the green haired Inkling, letting her take the lead. She  _was_  the one with the gun, after all.

Cordelia freezes. Tubes upon tubes drape from the incredibly tall ceiling. Bewilderment fills her mind. Was kind of a switchboard was this? To her (possibly) untrained eye, she doesn’t see any kind of switches—multicolored cords run from the ceiling to a giant machine drilled against the wall. Not a switch in sight. She imagined some kind of  _self-destruct_ switch, but that’d have been too obvious. She had watched too many spy movies in her day—which had understandably stopped when she had taken the mantle of Agent 4.

Freydis pats Cordelia on the shoulder. <This place is rarely empty. Watch your back.>

Her voice remains in a low whisper. Cordelia can hear a trace of fear laced in the Elite’s tone. If this place had Freydis worried... Cordelia takes a deep breath.

<I’ll be careful.> She whispers back.

A loud clanging sound encourages the two women to turn their backs. It was coming from the large metal door. Cordelia was right to trust the Elite.  

<There’s something in the other room.> Freydis whispers. <I hope you know what you’re doing,  _Princess._ >

Cordelia rolls her eyes. She sees the Elite is in the mood for jokes.

Both hold their ground as the door springs open, revealing a tall Octoling man looking worse for wear.

It’s  _him!_

Cordelia can’t even comprehend the joy and relief she feels; He's alive! Her instinct is to rush to the man and wrap her arms around him; a disturbing thought to have at this very moment. Even if she wanted to, the man trailing the Octoling keeps both women at bay.

His pale complexion reveals exactly who he is. Freydis squeaks as she positions herself behind the Inkling. Her finger sweats against the plastic trigger. Cordelia couldn’t let that man hurt the Octoling, no matter how scared she was. Cordelia angles the N-Zap in the direction of the General. She’s careful to aim away from the Octoling, angling herself in firing range. Without hesitation, she shoots the Inkling General. She watches as the ink covers the General’s entire upper half. It does nothing. Her ink is ineffective against him.

_How is that possible?!_

An irritated grunt comes from the man as he uses his arm to clear off the ink. He then wipes his shades off with his sleeve. His eyes reveal to be the shape of an Octoling's, except… They were a murky green colour. The Inkling couldn’t be some kind of experiment, could he? The thought makes Cordelia shutter. Not that she had time to linger, this  _man_  owed her answers.

The Octoling takes one look at Freydis as he hurries to her side. His eyes meet hers in passing as they widen in surprise—hadn’t he recognized her? No, it doesn’t matter. Cordelia doesn’t have time to communicate—now that she had the General’s attention, she had to keep it that way.

<You shouldn’t be here.> He says with a hint of irritation. Cordelia aims the N-Zap in front of her as he walks closer. <Lower your weapon, you already know your ink isn’t effective against me.>

Maybe not, but chucking the weapon at him might give him a few bruises. Cordelia knows not to follow that impulse. She would be giving the unarmed General a weapon to counter with—and she’d bet that his ink would be  _much_  more effective against her.

<No.> Cordelia sticks her head up as she glowers at the Inkling. <I believe you owe me some kind of explanation as to why you’ve been following me around.>

<I owe you nothing,  _Firthe_. > He spits out.

Firthe? She pales. She misses the wide stare from both Freydis and the Octoling. At this stage, Cordelia should have suspected that the Firthe name was relevant in the Octarian world. But to hear this supposed General say it so venomously? That scares her.  

He lowers his voice. <I can’t have  _Aleck’s_ precious daughter getting hurt.> He speaks with such malice that it chills her entirely. <But no worry, you’re not the cause of my headache—that honour goes to the  _traitor_  standing behind you.>

<I’m no traitor.> The Octoling hisses. <You have no right to send out those  _things_ into Inkopolis. What do you suppose will happen to the rest of us when the Council doesn't recognize our worth?> 

<Stop whining.> The Inkling General rolls his eyes. <Your sob story falls on deaf ears.>

Cordelia blinks as her head moves between the two. Freydis meets her gaze with the same confused stare. Was this really happening?

<Enough!> Cordelia isn’t in the mood. <You are going to let the three of us walk out of here, unscathed.> She musters a cynical tone. <If you don’t, I’ll make sure to mention this little discrepancy to my father.>

The General was foolish to reveal that she was an untouchable pawn. Regardless of the reason, if her father had instructed her to keep his hands away, then she would certainly use this to her advantage. Everyone here would be getting out alive, including the resident traitor.

The General frowns as he falls silent, staring at her with great intensity. Nerves creep into her gut, but Cordelia reminds herself that she has the upper hand. He had to oblige her request if he wanted her father’s help.

<I should have assumed Aleck would have said something to you. It was foolish of me to assume otherwise …you are his  _preferred_ heir, after all.>

 _Preferred heir?_ No. She doesn’t have time for his mind games—he could purposely be trying to slip her up.

She asks, <Do we have a deal, or not?>

<It appears I have no choice, if I want our success to continue.> His eyes narrow.  _< Spoiled git.>_

What was his problem? He was acting like a jealous onlooker more than an esteemed general. Was he really that upset about her heritage? What a weird man…

<The two of you are free to go. But, if  _you_  return.> He points to the Octoling. <You  _will_  be arrested.>

Freydis grabs the Octoling’s arm. Her voice breaks as she exclaims, <You can’t exile him!>  

<I will not have a traitor live amongst us.> The General folds his arms. <You must understand this.>

<It’s alright Freydis.> The Octoling whispers. <I wouldn’t want to live under this asshole’s leadership.> That answer does not console the Elite. She pulls her hands away in annoyance.

The General ignores his comment as he focus remains on Freydis. <As for you, you may guide them to the surface. When you return, report back to me when you’ve completed the job.>

<Not so fast.> Freydis speaks up. Cordelia is impressed that she can address herself in front of her superior so strongly. This Elite was the definition of badass. <How can I trust you after you blatantly attacked me?>

<You harmed Aleck’s daughter, which couldn’t be allowed.> He says plainly as he looks in Cordelia’s direction. <Her father asked me to keep a special eye on her, in exchange for his cooperation. I had no choice but to defend her.>

If this General was in cahoots with her father, that would mean both of them knew she was Agent 4. Cordelia feels sickened by the thought. Just how deep was her family in the politics of the Octarians? Even so, why did this General  _allow_  her to take out D.J. Octavio? Her instinct tells her it was to clear the position for the Inkling to take his place amongst the officials.

<Are we clear?> The General asks.

Freydis nods. Cordelia gets the feeling that she’s not finished with him.

<I will have one of my lieutenants accompany you, should you decide to cause trouble.>

<You don’t trust that I’ll handle it?> She crosses her arms. <I may  _like_  these two, but don’t get me wrong. I’m not interested in sabotaging out efforts, despite…> The Elite holds her tongue.

<I see.> He looks at Freydis. <I suppose I should give you the opportunity to prove yourself, in exchange for your forgiveness.>

<I accept those terms.> She bows her head.

<Now, see that Miss Firthe is disarmed.>

Cordelia knows her weapon was ineffective against the General. She allows Freydis to remove her weapon. The Elite whispers a  _sorry_  as she unstraps the Ink Tank.

<Please escort Miss Firthe and the Traitor to the surface.>

<Understood.> She nods as she guides the duo to the elevator. The General strokes his chin as she hears him mutter,  _< His devotion is unmatched… it makes me wonder if it could have been the same for me.> _Cordelia doesn’t catch the last part as the elevator doors close.

Freydis grits her teeth as she folds her arms. <Of course you’d have to do something stupid like get yourself  _banished_. >

<Freydis.> His violet eyes soften. <He  _knew_ what I was after. If I had stayed, you know what he would have done to me.>

<No!> She hits his arm away as he tries to console her. <I tried to help you countless times, and you  _always_  screw it up! I just don’t get  _why! > _

<Because what they’re doing isn’t right! Drones are  _not_  the way to win, Freydis. The minute they do, we’ll all be cast aside for more obedient beings.>

<No, they’re using drones so they  _don’t_  have to use us, Radjerd. Would you rather civilians die in combat than lifeless soldiers?>

<Do you  _forget_  that we were once those  _lifeless_  soldiers?! How can you bare to see those  _things_  be used as tools of war?>

<Because they  _aren’t_ alive. We are!>

The Octoling pauses. Tears are laced in the Elite’s eyes. <I have a family now, Radjerd. I can’t afford to cover for your fuck-ups anymore.>

Cordelia’s ears blur the sound of the arguing Octolings. She grips the bar along the side, catching her breath. Her heart pounds against her chest—nausea fills her stomach. Just how  _deep_  was her family in the Octarian war-efforts? The worst of it was, it could have been all her fault.

The elevator door opens to the main lobby. Cordelia doesn’t even notice until the Octoling nudges her shoulder. She stares at him with glazed eyes, soon turning to the white entryway before her. She doesn’t notice the eyes upon the three of them as they leave the facility.

Freydis waits until the facility doors close before she gives another earful to the Octoling. <Not only did you decide to directly disobey orders, but you dragged  _her_  into a place like this… What were you thinking?>

The Octoling gives her a side glance. <She knew what she was doing.>

<I don’t think she was, or she wouldn’t have volunteered.>

<Do you think I’d bring her down here if I thought she couldn’t handle herself?> He folds his arms tightly.

<I think you’d be stupid enough to let your ideals get in the way.> 

The Octoling withholds from speaking.

<Cordelia.> Freydis says. <You have a right to know what the facility does to Inklings.>

<What?> Cordelia wasn’t listening. Her mind was laced with guilt—guilt that her own stupidity as Agent 4 had landed her father into an impossible contract—help the Octarians win the war, or, have his precious daughter sacrificed—or whatever threat they had made for him to sign the dotted line.  

<Cordelia, you asked me about the tower back at the bunker.>

Right. Cordelia shakes her head. She’s not sure that she wants to know the answer, but it would be beneficial for her mission—she needed to come back with something other than her family’s treachery.

<Tell me.>

<What you saw down there, it’s called a Greenhouse. We use Inkling genes in combination with other species that we have experimented on. The malleability of the Inkling’s genes makes your species the most compatible—which—is what makes your breed so ideal to work with.> She calms herself down as she trails to the end, adopting a frown. <I don’t like to think that you could have ended up as one of those test subjects.>

<I…I kind of figured when you told me the history of the Elites.> It was still a harrowing feeling, but it came as no surprise. The Octarians had an affinity for genetic manipulation. She wouldn’t be surprised if eventually, their entire race would be manufactured.

<I wouldn’t have let that happen to Cordelia.> The Octoling stops in his tracks. <She would have never ended up there.>

<Except she did—that’s where I found her, Radjerd.>

His eyes grow wide as his jaw drops.

<I was told to eliminate a disturbance. If I wasn’t stopped, I would have.> Guilt washes over the Elite’s face.

<I…didn’t know.> Worry fills him completely. <I wish you didn’t have to see that.>

<I didn’t know what it was, so…> She trails off. There was no need to continue this conversation.

<She’s lucky she’s a Firthe, or I would have killed her.> She sticks her hands in her pockets. <In a backwards way, the General did me a solid.>

The Octoling curiously looks at Cordelia. <Did you know about your family’s involvement?>

<No.> She sighs as the pang of guilt returns.  _Thanks, Octoling_. She remains silent as she follows the two Octolings back through the town. She hadn’t realized they were going to the Octoling’s residence until the telltale four-story building appears in her line of sight. It made sense for him to gather  _some_  items before he was banished to Inkopolis.

They stop at the apartment complex as the Octoling opens the door. Once they reach his unit, he scans the room for his backpack. He apologizes to Freydis before he grabs his things, asking her to keep a watch outside. She reluctantly agrees, but, not without having the last word. She waits until the Octoling is out of earshot before she whispers.

<What the hell is he going to do now? I doubt Inkopolis will want anything to do with him—especially considering his Elite background. But, he’s done this to himself…> She signs in recognition.

<He’ll be okay.> Cordelia manages a smile to calm the Elite’s nerves.  <I’ll make sure he’s got a roof over his head.>

<I’m glad to hear.> A grin appears on her face almost instantly. <But he’s not going to be much of a provider, especially in your world. Are you alright with that?>

Cordelia shuts her eyes …not this again.

<I mean, he could stay at home with the kids—that’s what my Melbourne would like to do if his job didn’t make us as much money as it did.>

<How about we keep focused, alright?> Cordelia spits out. She wasn’t going to let Freydis carry on with her nonsense. She looks at the Elite’s stomach. <Worry about yourself.> 

<I can’t help it. He’s always been foolish...> Cordelia can believe it. Even though their words were murmurs in her head, she could tell by the tone that their conversation was heated. <I’m warning you now, Radjerd’s not going to like the idea that he can’t provide for you.>

Cordelia rubs her brows. <That’s not going to  _be_  a problem.> She manages to say through pursed lips. <I can provide for myself.>

<It will be a problem for him.> She rests a hand on her shoulder. <If he gets grumpy on you, that’ll be why.> 

<Freydis.> The Inkling stresses, <That’s not going to be a concern, because we are  _not_  …nevermind.> There was no point addressing it. Freydis wasn’t going to believe her.

She does not miss the Elite’s dramatic eye roll. She moves her hair to the side as she lets out a despondent sigh. <Well, you better break it to him gently.>

What does she mean by that? Cordelia raises a brow, but all thoughts of reason dissipate as a pair of familiar warm arms wrap around her waist.

Freydis gives her a knowing look as she jerks from the Octoling’s warm lips caressing her neck. Her insides tingle with elation as he whispers, <Those clothes suit you nicely.>

<Don’t do this here!> She sharply replies. <This is not the time or place!>

<Doesn’t bother me.> Freydis cocks a grin as she politely turns her back. Cordelia fumes when she feels the leather part from the middle—how  _dare_ he try to unzip her jacket!

Cordelia slaps his hand away. <You’re supposed to be packing for god’s sake!>

<I’m done.> He lets go of Cordelia as he pats his knapsack. <There were only a couple of things I’d need, except …Freydis, can you hand me the picture on the wall?> The Elite does as she’s asked, stopping for a moment as she massages the frame of the picture with her thumb. Cordelia remembers that picture—the one with Freydis and his friends. Cordelia sees from the corner of her eye that the Octoling grabs his journal. She knows she can’t read it, but it doesn’t help to sedate her curiosity. She knew next to nothing about his personal interests. ...besides  _her_. 

Freydis silently hands the picture to the Octoling as he slips it in his bag.

<I’m sorry.> It’s the first time Cordelia hears his voice this soft. <I know I said it before.>

<I don’t think I can understand it, but… I forgive you.> She mutters. <Just don’t do anything stupid up above.>

<I will be on my best behaviour.> He places a strong hand on Freydis’ shoulder. <If I’m not, how are you supposed to visit me?>

The Elite wears a weary grin as tears form in her eyes. Cordelia mimics the sensation. It was touching how much she cared for the Octoling.

<You’re always welcome in Flounder Heights.> Cordelia says. Octoling, or no Octoling, Freydis would be more than welcome in her home. She could even bring her husband if she wanted to. If he was a partner of Freydis, he had to be a respectable specimen. She wasn’t the type of woman who would put up with a deadweight man.  

<Thank you.> Her smile is earnest.

The Octoling takes one last glance around his place and nods. He’s ready to leave.

<I’m happy I don’t live in this dump anymore.> Freydis lets out a chuckle.

<Hey—you and I had some great memories here.>

Cordelia scrunches her nose in response. She didn’t want to know  _any_  of this. She does her best to tune out the pair as they walk down the hall. This was a conversation she did  _not_  need to be privy to.

 

The three arrive at Tentakeel Outpost. A sole street lamp illuminates Freydis’ frame, casting shadows along her side. Cordelia can’t help but wonder what was next for the Elite. She mentioned that she wanted to leave the military, but now that the General had apologized for his wrongdoings… Cordelia had to ask.

<What are you going to do now?>

<I’ll go back to the Garrison, talk with our General. Decide from there if I believe that he’s trustworthy. If not, I’m leaving. I have ideals of my own, and they involve my family.> She smiles. <I’ve always been able to take care of myself, so don’t waste your energy worrying about little ol’ me.> She points at the Octoling. <I’m more concerned about  _him_. >

Freydis wraps her arms around Cordelia, squeezing her to the point of suffocation.

<Take care of him, alright?> She whispers.

Cordelia isn't planning to, but she nods in silence.

Freydis turns to the Elite as she hugs him tenderly. The two remain in silence as unspoken words pass between them. She is the first to let go, as she gently kisses him on the cheek. She turns to Cordelia, smiling as she sees her eyes well up. Waving one last time, the Elite spins on her heel, making her exit. Cordelia has an urge to stop her, but she doesn’t. It’s like Freydis said, she can take care of herself.

The two wait until she disappears before venturing onward. What surprises Cordelia is not how dark the atmosphere is, but how wobbly her legs feel. Fatigue washes over her as she takes in a deep breath. She needs to keep going, she’s almost there.

A pair of gentle arms swoops Cordelia off the ground. Without realizing it, she leans her head against him—hearing the patter of his heart against his chest—as her eyes gently close. He says nothing as he walks in the direction of the faintly lit cabin. It takes him a mere two minutes before he reaches the structure. She had underestimated the power of his long legs.

<Do you have a key?> he whispers.

<No.> Her voice is only a murmur.   

<Why don’t you use the radio? It’s not like you got to use it, so now would be a perfect time. Get them both here, unlock the cabin so we don’t have to sleep outside.>

<No, just put me on that ugly couch over there.> She yawns, ignoring the Octoling. She’s too tired to think.

He carefully steps over what he thinks might be a tire—which was a strange thing to have outside when there was no car to be seen—but it’s out of his mind as he sees the couch. It’s a loveseat; only big enough for Cordelia to sleep upon.

***

Radjerd carefully leans the sleepy Inkling on the couch. He notices her bare arms—and soft mid-drift—noticing that she may get a chill if she remained uncovered. He unzips his knapsack and grabs a familiar studded jacket, draping it over her frame. Her soft breaths indicate that she’s out cold. He hovers over her lips as they soon part;  _god,_ how he wants to kiss them. He refrains from doing so—he doesn’t want to wake her up. He’d seen the Inkling through an array of emotions; he did not imagine that a cranky Cordelia would be fun to deal with. He scans for a suitable resting area—that wooden beam will do. He positions himself against the bench as he places his knapsack on the ground. It was uncomfortable, but things could have been worse. He lightly leans his head against the firm baseboard as his eyes scan the sky above. Had he realized that the Inkling Agent was a Firthe, he might have had different plans for her. He might have acted strategically—and—he would have  _never_  bought her to the Research Facility. Freydis gave him quite the scolding for that. She was right, he shouldn’t have brought her to the facility in the first place. He folds his hands on his chest. With the General forbidding him to enter their homeland, how was he supposed to get to the Factory? His credentials would have been stripped—for good. Freydis wouldn’t be able to help him a  _third_ time. He had wasted his friend’s good deed. He prayed for her safety—he did not trust that General.

Radjerd lets out a soft, yet purposeful sigh.  

What the  _hell_  was he going to do now?


	19. Chapter 19

Cordelia wakes from her slumber in a peculiar fashion—a pair of curious gold eyes stare back at her. It takes her a couple of seconds to register the soft pink toque; the golden star is what tips her dreary brain off.

“Agent 1?” Her articulation is terrible—her body is sore from the previous day’s excursion.

Thankfully, the black haired Inkling understands her perfectly.

“I almost didn’t recognize you in that getup—It kind of brings me back to _that_ time.” Her laugh is hollow as she rubs the back of her neck. “But, I don’t know anyone else who’d crash on this couch so easily. It _had_ to be you. ”

Cordelia doesn’t grasp Callie’s reference, at least not at first. However, it would be Cordelia’s first place of choice after each excursion as Agent 4. Going from aristocrat to agent was not easy—causing the Inkling to crash from exhaustion on the quickest place she could. It was an ugly couch, but a comfortable one.

Cordelia gently lifts herself up before tugging gently on her arms. The sensation quells her aching muscles. A good stretch was all she needed.

“I noticed your Octoling friend near the cabin. You don’t think he broke in overnight, do you?” Her cheeks puff up and she crosses her arms in distrust. “I know I shouldn’t say it out loud, but I have valuables in there.”

“I doubt it.” Her eyes fall to her lap, the Black Inky Rider she gave him was positioned over her legs. Her cheeks turn scarlet red—she briefly remembers the event. He had carried her because she was too tired to walk—and lent his jacket to her as a blanket. She grips the collar as her eyes fall to the sequins. She hadn’t noticed it before, but she could smell a soft hint of sandalwood. It couldn’t have come from the jacket—she wasn’t able to identify the Octoling to any smells. Maybe it was a fragrance Callie had on. Her attention is brought to Callie’s turned head—she was observing the Octoling asleep on the porch. He was resting on his back, his arm droops over the side as his head leans away from them, facing the cabin wall.

“I know what Marie said, but I couldn’t help but worry.” She begins, speaking in a low whisper. “I suspected him to turn you in at the first chance he got, but here you are.”

“Still standing.” Cordelia jokes.

“Did you get any suspicious vibes off of him?” Her gold eyes are laced with speculation.

“No.” She can answer that truthfully. “In fact, he was exiled …hard to fake that.”

Callie blinks. “Like, _from Octarian society_ exiled?” 

“I think so.” Cordelia matches Callie’s whisper. “I don’t want to say too much without Marie present, but we ran into one of the Octarian Generals. Let’s just say things didn’t go too well after that.” The guilty pang returns. Cordelia wasn’t prepared to admit her family’s wrongdoings.

“Oh wow.” The black haired Inkling’s hands raise over her mouth.

“I’ll tell you the rest once Marie arrives.”

Callie nods as she lowers her hands. “He’s not going to take the whole _getting exiled thing_ out on you, is he?”

“I don’t think so. He had deep rooted issues with the way things were operating in the Octarian Military long before I came around.” At least, she hopes that’s the case.

She notices Callie’s sympathetic gaze.

“What’s he going to do now?”

Cordelia remains silent. She knew that it was the hospitable thing to do—allow the Octoling to stay at her place. But, there was one crucial problem with that. She knows that he can’t leave—which means the flight-of-fancies would return—taking any common sense she had left and throwing it to the wind. That man had a powerful attraction she could not combat. She had to be well aware of that.

“You’re as red as a tomato.” Cordelia jumps as she covers her face with her hands. _“What did he do?”_

“N-nothing! I’m just warm—you know how leather keeps in heat after all!” She grins to shrug it off.

Callie raises a speculative brow. “Yeah, your _black_ tips tell me otherwise.”

Oh _GOD!_ She forgot about that. Cordelia grits her teeth in embarrassment.

“I didn’t realize how much I underestimated your trust in him.” She smirks. “If he’s got Cordelia Firthe’s approval, he must be worth his salt.” She giggles with amusement.

“It’s not like that.” She glowers.

“I didn’t want to believe it either, but…” Callie looks to the side before continuing. “He _did_ keep to his word. Maybe, just maybe I’ll give him my blessing—for _real_ this time.”

“Oh come on!” Cordelia grabs her collar—the heat is unbearable. “Don’t be absurd.”  What’s worse is those nasty butterflies return.

Knowing that she’s got Cordelia hooked, Callie’s grin grows wider. “Here’s some advice. Don’t play poker—you’d lose all your hands.”

Callie did _not_ need to tease her. She had enough of that with Freydis.

Cordelia straightens herself, more than ready to change the subject. “When are we to expect Agent 2?”

“Give her about twenty minutes. These early mornings are rough for her.” Callie’s grin falls flat. “Did you hear anything about Marina or Pearl? I was able to tip the media saying they went on a trip across the Great Ocean, but...”

“I did… From a man named Otis—an Octoling who claimed to be with the Special Forces. Have you heard of him?”

“Yes.” Callie smiles. “He’s the one who helped me with my …recovery. He’s a kind man and the only Octoling that I was able to trust after that.” Understandably, Marina would have been a point of contention for Callie, even if she was a kind individual. “I know it’s misguided to judge an entire race based off of…”

“You don’t have to talk about it.” Cordelia attempts to be sympathetic. It’s not her strong suit, but she hopes it’s good enough.

It appears to work as Callie offers a soft smile. It fades just as quickly as she asks, “What did Otis say to you?”

“He said something strange about Marina—like, she had a kid in Octo Valley and that’s why she ran off. He also said not to underestimate Pearl.”

“Marina’s got a kid?!”

“Apparently it’s an Octarian, so she couldn’t bring him with her to Inkopolis, so he’s living with her relatives.”

“That’s so sad.” Callie seems to understand _why_ Marina wouldn’t be able to bring an Octarian child back with her. Unlike an Octoling, they possessed no human-like features. Callie doesn’t have to say it, but Cordelia can sense that she feels partially responsible for the bias. “I hope her family is alright.”

“I think they will be.” Cordelia nods.

Callie folds her arms. “It’s not likely that Marina’s behind the Rainmaker disappearance, then.”

Cordelia bites her lips as she grips the collar of the Black Inky Rider. She doesn’t know how she could admit to Callie that her own father was behind it. Cordelia wouldn’t, for now.

“By the way, you won’t have to repeat this to Agent 2. I can tell her.” Callie smiles. “But we should stop for now, or I’m afraid I’ll miss another detail.” Callie quickly glances at her watch. “She should be here soon. In the meantime, I should give you back your stuff—I kept it safe in your box.” Callie motions for Cordelia to follow her to the cabin. She pulls out the key as she unlocks the door. Cordelia stiffens when she sees the Octoling stir out of slumber—she steps in after Callie before he has the chance to speak to her. After their previous conversation, she didn’t want to give Callie any more ammo to use against her.

The black haired Inkling sifts through the shelf, picking up a particular box. _Agent 4_ was scrawled on the lid. She carefully puts it down and allows Cordelia to open it.

Inside was a spare Hero Hoodie, her cell, and…was that _green dye?!_ This was just _too_ lucky.

Cordelia swiftly grabs the bottle as her steel blue eyes sparkle. She could get rid of this disgusting display and have her hair looking in tip-top shape.

“I forgot you had some.” Callie scratches her cheek. “I gather you’re going to need a minute.”

Cordelia nods, bee-lining for the bathroom. Once inside, she takes a look in the mirror. Oh _god!_  Not only was her hair almost black, but she could see the beginnings of pale yellow roots showing through. She pours the liquid on her head, massaging it downward. Within a minute, her bright green signature look returns, discarding her of that pesky black mess. She takes a deep breath, allowing a smile to replace the grimace she wore. Cool shivers make way down her arms—she feels completely and utterly refreshed.

She leaves the bathroom a new woman. Callie gapes in surprise.

“Wow—that stuff works fast!” She exclaims.

Cordelia’s ears perk when the door opens. Both Inklings turn to see that it’s the Octoling. His violet eyes study Cordelia as his smirk grows.

_Oh no._

<Don’t.> She raises a finger before he can speak.

<Good morning to you, too.> He mumbles as he takes his leave.

“Uh…” Callie raises a finger. “Can I get you to say something to him?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Can you tell him I’m sorry about before …and I want him to know that I’ll do what I can to help him adapt here.”

“Yeah.” Cordelia steps out the door as Callie follows.

<Hey, Octoling!> She waves him over, as that stupid grin of his returns. <Agent 1 wants to apologize.>

<Really?> His amusement grows as he sits on the bench. <Will I get an apology from Agent 2 as well?>

Cordelia rolls her eyes. <She wants to tell you that if you need any help adapting to life above the ground, she’ll do her best to help.>

<You can tell her I don’t need her help.> He says gruffly. <I’m not a charity case.>

<Trust me, no one’s pitying you.> Cordelia rolls her eyes.

“Did he accept?” She whispers.

“Pretty much.” Cordelia’s not translating his nonsense.

The Octoling’s mood visibly deflates. <Tell her to go, I need to speak to you.>

He’s gruff with the delivery. Cordelia isn’t sure if she wants to be left alone with him—especially if he’s in a bad mood. Which, was more than likely considering what had happened at the Research Facility. Cordelia closes her eyes as she takes in the cool morning air. She wouldn’t be surprised if Callie was giving her a strange look. It as a rather peculiar thing to be doing mid-conversation.

“Agent 1, can you give us a moment?”

“Oh, uh—sure, if that’s what you want.” Her gold eyes scan Cordelia suspiciously.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” She nods in response. “He gets like this sometimes.” She wanted to give Callie the clear that he wouldn’t needlessly become aggressive with her. Even when she pushed him to his limits, he refused to lay a hand on her. This was _not_ going to be a conversation that would throw either of them at each other’s throats... or, at least she _hopes_ it’s not the case. He wouldn’t try to pin the blame on her, would he?

Only one way to find out.   

Cordelia sits next to the Octoling. She can feel the heat of his body radiate from him. She holds her knees together, placing her hands on top of them for good measure. She inspects the area, seeing that Callie has closed the cabin door. She hoped to wrap this up soon—Marie would be here any minute.

Cordelia informs the Octoling. <We’re alone.>

The Octoling remains silent. The last time he pulled something like this, it was after a heated argument.

<I’m not looking for charity. I don’t need _them_ to take pity on me. >  

She pulls a face. Callie didn’t offer it out of pity, she was genuinely trying to make things right. Cordelia is guessing because the black haired inkling judged him right out of the gate.  

<Agent 1 was talking about employment options, not giving you a monthly allowance.>

<I don’t have time for a job. I have to find a way to stop those drones.>

A fair point—Cordelia and the Agents had to protect Inkopolis from the lifeless beings.

<We’re going to do that.> Cordelia rolls her eyes. <You think that we’re going to cease activity because some General told us to stay away?>

He throws her a dirty look. <He’s dangerous, Cordelia. Don’t underestimate him.>

<I’m not.> She didn’t ignore that her ink had done nothing to the Inkling General. For all she knew, he was some kind of experiment that was meant to be invincible. He better hope he was. Cordelia would personally hand his ass to him for blackmailing her father.

<You are if you think you can take him on—he almost toppled me without a weapon. I had to run out of there, or…> He pauses. <Do you _know_ what he would have done to you if you weren’t a Firthe? >  

The anxiety in his tone is telling—she guessed she wouldn’t be standing here right now if she wasn’t.

Cordelia has to ask. <How long did you know about the Firthes?>

<A while—but your head would have to be buried in the sand to not know them.> He crosses his arms. <If I had known you were one, I wouldn’t have been so careless.>

What did he mean by that?

<You didn’t know that Firthe’s Ink&Tanks supplied our weapon shops?> He raises a brow. <Are you uninvolved with the business?>

She was supposed to be the _heir_ , according to her father. Yet, they didn’t treat her like one. Her mother essentially _kicked_ her out for not marrying that politician’s son. It’s not her fault that he decided to run off with that urchin girl. Her mother said it was best to keep her out of the spotlight, until the drama died down, which is what suspended her post-secondary education. To be honest, Cordelia wasn’t the student type—if they wanted her to stay out of University, _fine._ Keep secrets about the business’ practices, _fine_. Great. Now her mood soured. Thanks, Octoling…  

<No.> She responds curtly. There was no point in explaining she was the next in line. She bites her lip as tears surface. She manages to wipe them away before the Octoling sees.

Cordelia waves her hand in the air, changing the subject. If she were to think about her convoluted, disoriented family one more time, she’d lose it. <I already told Freydis I’d let you stay with me.>

The Octoling opens his mouth—genuine surprise crosses his face. Soon, his lips purse together. He looks mad. That didn’t go as planned. Not that Cordelia had a plan. She folds her hands together, looking in the opposite direction. The redness of the horizon was hardly there; morning had truly begun. Cordelia almost envied Callie; she would do anything to switch places with the black haired Inkling.

After a minute passes, he speaks.

<I’m not looking for handouts.> He says quietly.  

<It’s not a handout.> Nerves swirl in her gut. <There’s a settee with your name on it.>  

He clenches his teeth, yet, refuses to speak.

<I don’t see what the problem is.>

He lets out a heavy sigh. His face remains flat, yet his eyes lock onto hers with great intensity.

<This isn’t how it’s supposed to work.> He rubs his hand on his forehead as he slouches. <I’m supposed to provide for you, _not_ the other way around. > 

Her face burns with embarrassment. <Take care of me?! No no no, that’s not what this is about!> She waves her hands in front of him. <It’s temporary—no one is _taking care_ of anyone! >

Great… this is what Freydis meant? She expected that the Elite might have been exaggerating, but it turns out that no … _no she was not_.

His face indicates his discomfort.  <I don’t see why you would want to help me, I almost had you killed.> 

Yes, he might have been the instigator, but it wasn’t his fault. Her own carelessness was what got her into the situations that she did, not to mention the General ended up _saving_ her from Freydis. That was a harrowing thought. Her Firthe name was what kept her invisible, _both_ times, despite how dissociated she felt with it right now. 

<But you didn’t.> She manages to say, somewhat sympathetically. <We both made it out alive, and we’ll get a second chance. Now, I think we should take a break, come up with a plan, regroup. Then, we go back.>

She had other matters to focus upon—her family. Despite her discomfort, she needed to address it. But the problem was, _how_? It’s not like she could waltz into her family estate and expect that nothing’s changed.

<You’re _not_ going back there. > He growls.

Cordelia scoffs. <And why not?!>

<Freydis was right. Despite your experience as Agent 4, I shouldn’t have asked you to come.>

<You know why I went.> She furrows her brows in annoyance. <And good bloody thing I did—I saved your ass.>

<It’s not your job to protect me.>

_God, this again?_

<Cut the macho crap, it’s not attractive.> It’s her turn to glower. <You don’t get to tell me what to do.>

<I’m doing it for your own safety, Cordelia.>

She’s riled up. <What do you think is going to happen when you go back down there, huh? You think they’re going to _forget_ that you tried to blow up the Research Facility? > Cordelia expects a retort, some fiery comeback. Instead, she’s met with a pair of worried violet eyes.

<I _know_ that. Firthe or not, Cordelia, I was a fool to take you down with me. > He speaks in a low tone. <Because he’s going to assume you’re associated with me, and who knows what he’s going to do now.>

He had a point. The General wouldn’t be stupid enough to come after her, would he?

<If he tries to hurt us, then I’ll have him dealt with.> She shakes her head. <Just let me worry about it.>

<I can’t. If he lays one finger on you I swear I’ll have him—>

“Agent 4, happy to have you back!” Both Cordelia and the Octoling freeze at the sound of Marie’s voice.

She can hear the Octoling’s displeasure at the sound.

“Agent 2, Agent 1 and I were waiting for your arrival.” She smiles, residual embarrassment present on her cheeks.

“As I can see, from the notable lack of Agent 1’s presence.” She nods slowly. “At any rate, I’m glad to see the two of you made it back in one piece. How was the mission?”

“Why don’t you get comfortable, I have a lot to share.” Cordelia encourages Marie to go inside the cabin. She doesn’t miss the Octoling’s glare at the white haired Inkling. If looks could kill. “Just ignore him.”

“Believe me, Agent 4… I’m _trying_.”

Cordelia follows Marie into the cabin, her focus lingers on the Octoling outside. She gives him a _you better not run off_ look before closing the door behind her.  

Cordelia follows Marie into the cabin. Callie is organizing the contents around the table—and has a fresh notepad ready for note-taking. Cordelia examines the notepad to see that Callie’s added a few lines. Marie grabs a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker by the sink and sits down on one of the four chairs around the table.

“You’re back sooner than I expected. Did everything go well?”

“In a manner of speaking…” Cordelia looks to the floor. “We got caught by a General.”

Marie almost spits out her coffee.

“He found the Octoling, and then myself. He decided to let us go, in exchange for us never entering the premises—resulting in permanent exile for the Octoling.” As per usual, it hits Cordelia that his _exile_ could have contributed to his weird mood. If that didn’t make her an insensitive individual…

“Not only that, but he’s an Inkling, I think. He had the eyes of an Octoling, but they were all green, and murky.”

Callie covers her mouth in horror.

“What’s wrong?” Her cousin’s attention is upon her.  

“I know what they do to Inklings down there.” Callie gulps. “It’s why I was concerned about you, Agent 4.”

“Were you at risk?” Cordelia asks.

“No, but I knew of their experiments.” She holds her arms as her chin tilts downward. “It’s not pretty.”

“The Special Forces Agent told me that the General was a recent promotion. He had pale yellow hair and mostly wore white. Have you seen anyone with that description?”

“No.” Callie gently shakes her head.

“I don’t buy that he _just_ let you leave.” Marie crosses her arms as her gold eyes study Cordelia. “What happened?”

“It’s not what I did.” Cordelia winces as she reaches into her pocket—her heart hammers against her ribcage. She grips the folded paper and hands it to Marie. “I bartered with him—our freedom for his cooperation.”

Marie unfolds the paper, her eyes grow in disbelief. The rainmaker diagrams, the Firthe’s involvement with the Octarians—everything was revealed right before their eyes.

“T-That’s your father’s name!”

Marie never stutters. This was bad.

“He let me go _because_ I promised him to keep quiet.”

Should Cordelia admit _why_ his father might be working with the General in the first place? Because it may be some kind of blackmail that had to do with Cordelia? No. That was giving out way more information than they could process—or— _she_ could process. The looks of disgust and betrayal on the cousins’ faces were too much for her to acknowledge. She turns away, attempting to save face. A sharp lump surfaces from her throat; she fights to keep it down. Her Agent 4 composure was crumbling fast, revealing a weak and fragile persona—her true form.

“Agent 4, we have to investigate this matter—if any of this is true, your father could be considered an enemy of the state.”

Cordelia closes her eyes in detest.

She _begs_ for it not to be true.


	20. Chapter 20

Cordelia takes a deep breath—her vision becomes cloudy. She was  _not_ going to have a panic attack in front of the Agents. She would not allow it. The green haired Inkling blinks twice to regain focus. Marie’s voice becomes clearer in her ear as she grips the chair. A sudden bout of nausea overcomes her as she presses her fingers against her lips—god, now she was going to be sick! This was  _not_ what she had expected from herself. Cordelia pushes the chair out of the way and runs for the door, heading for the Cliffside, allowing the contents of her stomach to spill over the edge. She cringes when she hears the Octoling’s deep voice—shit. She briefly forgot that he was out here.

<Cordelia?> She hears his footsteps from behind as he grasps her shoulders. The sudden bout of nausea hits again—this time, she closes her eyes, attempting to ignore that he’s behind her. She’s too occupied to tell him to leave.

<I didn’t know you were sick.>

Cordelia frowns as she wipes the corner of her mouth. It’s disgusting.

<I’m not sick.> She coughs. <It’s just nerves.> It was no word of a lie—even as a little girl her parents were concerned over her weak constitution.  Huge bouts of anxiety never failed to make her stomach upset.  

<I’ve never seen someone throw up like that over nerves.> He pauses, changing his tone. <What’s wrong?>

<Nothing that concerns you.> She clears her throat of the bile, allowing herself to breathe deeply.

His stare intensifies. <Is it my fault?>

<Of course not.> She rolls her eyes, although he wouldn’t notice. She was faced away from him. It’s her stupid father, and his stupid alliances that made her ill. Especially when those stupid alliances were to protect Cordelia from …whatever forces the General had forced upon him.

<Then why won’t you look at me?>

<Because!> She grunts. <Because… I’ll puke on your shoes.> She didn’t know what else to say. To be fair, what could she tell him? He wouldn’t understand. She freezes when he gently turns her around. His violet eyes lock onto hers.

<Then puke on my shoes.>

Why did  _that_  make her cheeks burn? She looks away, her stomach now churning for entirely different reasons.

<I can’t say that I want to.> She breathes as she does her best to recompose herself. When she’s ready, she faces him.

<I know I said some things that were pretty heavy, Cordelia.> His voice is low as he attempts to whisper. Her glance turns to the cabin as she notices both Agents watch her from the door. Marie’s face reminds her of the words she had spoken …this time, the green haired Inkling’s eyes well up with tears.

<Hey…> He’s unnerved by her display. <I was attempting to apologize!>

<It’s not you!> She blinks, attempting to hold her tears back. <Why do you think everything has to do with you?>

<Because all of this …is my fault.> He frowns.

<Just …stop.> She mumbles as rogue tears slide down her cheeks.

He remains silent as a sob escapes her. She doesn’t see Marie attempting to reach Cordelia; Callie holds her back, suggesting that the two of them might be the cause of this outburst. They carelessly addressed her father as a criminal—that would be hard for anyone to face. Marie sharply inhales. She knew she messed up.

A wail escapes her, her form shakes in place. What Cordelia would give to be alone right now—away from anyone who could identify her—away from her circumstances. She was losing her mind. Cordelia makes a break for the grate, but the Octoling’s strong arm prevents her from escaping.

<You’re not leaving.> He orders.

<Let me go!> She cries.

He doesn’t move.

In a fit of desperation, she flails her arms toward him, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

<I’m not leaving.> His words are soft.

Why that makes her crumble to her knees, she doesn’t know. Sobs echo through the air as Cordelia loses composure, melting onto the grassy cobblestone beneath her. She covers her face in shame to save face. The worst part is that she can feel the Octoling’s presence loom over her. What makes it worse is when she feels his strong sturdy arms pull her to his chest.

<I’ll make this up to you, Cordelia.> His whisper is stern, yet kind.

Her face is pressed against his jacket; her tears make the leather slide against her cheek. Her sobs continue as he holds her, his presence almost makes it worse. Her thoughts cycle through memories of her family but only stay for a few seconds. Her cries acted as a passage for them to escape her mind.

Cordelia takes another deep breath. She musters up the courage to look at him, snot-nosed and all. Her eyes felt swollen from the pressure.

She sniffs before speaking. <Thanks.>

Cordelia only notes the discomfort on his face when she meets his stare. He looks pained.

<I hate seeing you like this.> He mutters. <I hate being the one to make you cry.>

<How many times do I have to tell you…> She speaks quietly. <It’s my family. They’ve been dicking me around for years—it was only a matter of time before I—> Her voice catches on her throat. She was about to say break down but she’s glad she didn’t. If she said those words, it may have spiraled her to crumble all over again. That was a display no one needed to witness a second time.

<You were fine until you went in there.> He points to the cabin. <Was it one of them?>

<I just said it was my family, don’t you listen?> She says with annoyance.

<I get that… but your family isn’t here.> The Octoling says with a grunt. <It was that bitch, wasn’t it?>

<No, Agent 2 was only being logical, she didn’t mean to upset—>

Quickly, the Octoling lets her go as he storms toward Marie. Oh  _god!_  She hurries to him before he manages to do any harm. Callie is weary of the Octoling's shift, but allows Cordelia to diffuse the situation. To Cordelia’s surprise, Marie doesn’t retort. Instead, she carries a heavy frown.

Cordelia manages to hold the Octoling’s arm in place. <If you attack her, you’re going to be locked up all over again. Is that what you want?>

<I’ve always hated that white haired bitch.> He seethes.

<I get what you’re trying to do, but Agent 2 isn’t the one at fault here. If you have to take it out on someone, leave it for my father.> She shakes her head. Considering that the two will never meet, that was a safe thing to suggest.  

Cordelia glances at Marie, noticing that her gold eyes immediately avoid eye contact. She tilts her chin downward—it was easy to see that the white haired Inkling was riddled with guilt. It surprises Cordelia when she decides to speak.

“Agent 4, I didn’t mean to sound so blunt back there—I was in shock, that’s all. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“I know.” She nods. It was hard to think about, but Cordelia would do her best. Her accidental breakdown was not worth jeopardizing the future of Inkopolis. “I’m sorry for losing myself in my grief. I know Agents aren’t supposed to let their feelings get the better of them.”

“In your case, I’d say it’s more than allowed.” The white haired Inkling attempts a smile. “That’s a lot to put on one’s shoulders. I should be the one asking for forgiveness.”

“I-It’s fine.” She takes another deep breath. It was still embarrassing, even if Marie did mean well.

“Agent 4, we didn’t mean to say that your father was a bad person.” Callie adds. “It’s confusing, believe me—I totally get it. After all, I  _did_ try to kill you.” The black haired Inkling grimaces. “Sometimes, that still haunts me.”

Oh… Cordelia bites her lip. Poor Callie. Cordelia wouldn’t have been able to imagine what it would have been like to switch places with Callie. Cordelia knows she should be fortunate that her father was the only contender she had to deal with…  

“I don’t mean to play down your situation—because it sucks—but I also want you to know that you’re not alone.” She offers a wry smile. “I care about you.”

Cordelia is touched by Callie’s sentiment.

“But… Agent 4? Could you ask your Octoling friend to ease off?” Callie’s gold eyes look to her right—the Octoling’s glare is strong. Cordelia flushes immediately. She did not need his antics to cause her any more grief.

She taps his arm with the back of her hand. <Can you lay off the death glare? You’re freaking them out.>

<What glare?> He feigns ignorance. Of course he’d play dumb.

<You know exactly what I’m talking about.> Cordelia shakes her head. <Just look at something else if she bothers you so much.>

His eyes move to Cordelia as his expression calms, that signature grin of his returns. Well,  _whatever_. If it means he’s laying off the other Agents, she’ll take one for the team.

“Thank you.” Callie smiles as the Octoling backs off.

“I know that this is going to be hard to process, but… we need to look into your father’s dealings, Agent 4.” Marie uncomfortably holds her hands together. “I suggest sooner rather than later—especially since one of their Generals knows who you are.”

“I…” She doesn’t know. That pesky lump in her throat returns, but she does her best to quell it. “I need to be the one to talk to him. Just let me do that, and I’ll accept the rest, should he be guilty.”

Marie nods. “I agree that you should be the one to see him, but don’t beat yourself up—no matter what you come across in your search.”

Again, she knows the Agents mean well, but that was easier said than done. First off, she’d need some kind of plan to even  _get_ home. Her parents were likely still cross that she refused her engagement to Westley Fiske—a highbrow politician’s son who had a taste for Urchin women—even though he and Cordelia were publically an item. Yet, it was her who was slandered in the social papers.

Shit. Now Cordelia wanted to cry …again.

“As you know, my parents were cross with me because I never went through with my engagement—especially my mother.”

Marie nods. “I do remember. I can’t say I would have married the man either—useless lout.” She mutters under her breath. “An Agent deserves better.”

She wasn’t an Agent at that point, just an aristocrat without a clue in the world. It was because of her rebellious decision that allowed Cordelia to expand her horizons. In a backward way, she  _did_  have her mother to thank for that.

“Well…” Callie interjects. “I mean…”

Both Inklings turn to her attention.

“Bear with me Agent 4, but…”

“Spit it out.” Marie speaks impatiently.

“Well…” Callie looks unsure that she wants to continue. It must be  _quite_  the suggestion for her to stall this long.  

“What about…” Callie smiles awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders. “If you go home with …a new fiancé?”

“And who exactly are you thinking about...?” Marie’s lips slowly form into an O shape.

“C’mon, Agent 2. You  _know_  it’s ideal. Considering the type of business dealings her father may be involved with, the Octoling would be a perfect candidate.”

Wait a second… was Cordelia  _actually_  hearing her right?

“Well…” Marie hums. “What are your thoughts, Agent 4?”

Cordelia’s face drops.

“Are you suggesting what I  _think_  you’re suggesting?”

Callie buts in. “It’s weird, I know. But you have to admit, it’s kinda perfect. Think about it, you’re dealing with an Octarian weapons contract here. And, your father might not be inclined to discuss it with his precious daughter, but maybe he would with his new Octarian son-in-law.”

All Cordelia can manage is a blank stare. “My mother would have me disinherited.”

“But, would your father?” Marie adds to her cousin’s words. “It might be the perfect way to integrate into Octarian business—bring one into the family to save face.” She folds her arms. “It’s not ideal, I get that. But, if the two of you feigned an engagement, it  _could_  work in your mother’s favour as well."

She lets out a long drawn sigh. She got the idea behind it, but… to fake an engagement with the Octoling would just be asking for it...

“My mother wouldnever allow me to marry an Octoling.”

“Maybe she would if you had your father's blessing—which I have a feeling he would give, given what we know about his recent business dealings.” Marie shakes her head. “But, I understand if we need to come up with a Plan B—that Octoling is definitely a handful. I know if I were you I couldn’t deal with it.”

The Agents were right in assuming it would be a shoe-in with her father. Her mother would be the more difficult of the two to convince. But, they did have a point—having the Octoling there would be perfect—her father might even decide to open up to him. And,  _maybe_  her mother would ease into the idea if her father was on board. It wasn’t an ideal cover, but, it was the one that made the most sense. If she were to call her parents with a story like that—they may just be intrigued enough to let her come home. She didn't  _have_  to tell them he was an Octoling on the phone.  

“Well… I guess that could work.” She closes her eyes and lets out a long drawn sigh. “At least, for now.”  She knows that was unlikely. An engagement implied that she was serious—and she was. She wants to get to the bottom of her family’s crimes. The idea of feigning an engagement to anyone was a weird concept, but it would get the Octoling clearance to chat with her father.   

“It’s never a bad idea to pack the muscle.” Callie pumps her arm in jest. “If nothing else, he’ll be a perfect bodyguard.”

“I don’t want to force you into it if it makes you uncomfortable.” Marie places a hand on the green haired Inkling’s shoulder. “But if you’re okay with it, I do think it’d give you the most leeway.”

“You might be right.” She had her reservations. Sure, the Octoling may take full advantage of the situation, but that wasn’t what topped her worries. Her family was the ones she blamed for her discomfort. The fact that she needed a plan to ensure her safety was what bothered her the most. Now, for the second hardest part of this equation— she’d have to ask the Octoling.

“If he agrees to the idea, that is.” Cordelia makes sure to add.

“Oh come on Agent 4, you know he will.” Callie laughs. “He adores you.”

“Agent 1, don’t embarrass her,” Marie speaks sternly. “It’s strictly for a cover, not to tease her.”

“I didn’t mean to tease her. I’m just saying—“

“I think you’ve said enough.” Marie frowns, turning her attention to Cordelia. “Did you want to brief him now, or should we wait a bit?”

“No, I think it’s best to jump in.” The General would likely try to get in contact with her father—sooner rather than later. It was best that they tackle this as soon as possible.  “And, if the General decides to pull something while I’m there, I’ll be able to report it right away.”

“True.” The white haired Inkling nods.

Cordelia takes a deep breath. “I’ll pull him aside and see what he thinks.”

The Octoling was not far—he had decided to sit on the couch as the Agents were chatting. Cordelia breathes deeply and decides to join him. She places her hands on her knees. She clears her throat to grab his attention, although it wasn’t really necessary. His eyes were on her the moment she sat down.  

<I need your help.> She begins. No point in beating around the bush. <I’m going to go to my parents’ place, and I need you to come with me.>

<Oh?> He questions. <So that means I get to punch your father then?>

<No, no you can’t!> She raises her hands in the air. To his credit, she did say that he could …before she needed him to make nice.  <I need you to talk to him. He can speak Octarian like me, so it shouldn’t be a problem.>

<Alright…  _then_  can I punch him?>

<No. Because I’m going to need you to be a good future son-in-law.> She turns beet red. <I need you to pretend we’re engaged.>

She swears his eyes grow as wide as saucers.

<E-Engaged?> He pulls at his collar. She expected some kind of sly smile, or some come-on. Not pure unadulterated shock.  

<It’s pretend …obviously. It’s so we can gather Intel about the true intentions of Firthe’s Ink&Tanks. Nothing else.>

The Octoling takes a moment before he speaks again. <You think your parents would be alright with it?>

<My dad would considering his recent dealings. My mother will be harder to convince, but I’m sure you won’t mind convincing her that you’ll a well-behaved man.>

His face relaxes as a grin creeps in. There we go—that was more of what she expected.

<Does this mean we can share a room—you know, since we’re  _engaged_  now.>

<No. If anything, it means you’re getting a bedroom across the manor.> Her blush is fierce. <And, for the love of all things pure, do  _not_ tell my parents that we’ve… _you know_. >

<Cordelia, I think we’re well past that point.> He purrs as he whispers into her ear, <I’ve more than compromised their precious daughter.>

<Shut up!> Cordelia slams her hands over his mouth. She can feel his shit eating grin beneath her palms. He knew exactly what he was doing. Bastard…

She folds her arms. <If you agree to this, we need to come up with a plan.>

<Considering I don’t know much about you…> He grumbles. <That’d be ideal.>

<Excuse me?> His accusation is not appreciated. <You never asked.>

The Octoling shrugs. <The only time you’re nice to me is after I’ve satisfied you. That’s got to change.>  

God, if her face could get any redder. She’s about to argue that he’s wrong—but—he wasn’t.

<It will.> She nods softly. <Does that mean you’ll help us out?>

<I will help  _you_ , Cordelia, not  _them_. > He points to the cabin. <Make that clear to those Inklings.>

Cordelia sighs. <I will.> She won’t, but at this point it was easier to agree with him.

<And make sure to tell that Agent Bitch—the white haired one—that I am still mad at her.>

Cordelia rolls her eyes. Maybe this  _was_  a mistake after all.

 

After a long morning, Cordelia is finally home. Thankfully Callie had seen how wiped she was and sent the Inkling home—communications could be done over the phone. She was only gone a day, but it honestly felt like weeks. She puts her purse by the door, while taking off her Black Trainers. She’ll look at her phones later—she would need her cell-phone to call home. The Octoling rolls in behind her, he too seems out of sorts. He slips off his boots and lies back first on the settee. He closes his eyes as he motions for her to join him.

<No.> She protests. <I’m making breakfast.> She frowns when she opens the cabinets. She doesn’t see any cereal left. Right—she had used it up. She grabs a banana from the fridge. That would have to suffice. She unzips the leather jacket and throws it on the counter. Not the place for a jacket but she doesn’t care. The shirt underneath was short, but at least it wasn’t restricting.

The Octoling raises his head as he speaks. <Now that you’ve got breakfast, come here.> She’s half surprised he didn’t make some lewd comment about her shirt. How long will her current luck last? Cordelia sighs. The settee was large enough for the two of them to lie on. Even if it was a little embarrassing, she had to get used to his closeness. Especially if they were to pull off this façade.

She sits upright, leaning against his abdomen. He frowns in disapproval as she points to her banana. He leans his head back down as she takes three bites. It tasted nice, even without yogurt. She gasps when he swipes the remains from her hand and gobbles it up. He throws the peel on the table and leans her down beside him.

<You were taking too long.> He mumbles. <You forgot to offer me some.>

She feels her gut churn in elation as he strokes her bare midsection with his fingers. This was  _not_  the time, stupid gut.

<Remember that I appreciate being fed on occasion—fruits and sandwiches.> She can hear his smile. <As my future wife, you need to know that I’m not a fan of hot foods.>

Cordelia scoffs. He doesn’t need to tease her.  

<I see that you like cereal.> He says with amusement. <I also noticed your fondness for green, and airy dresses. Very feminine—I like it.>

God, did he have to say it in a voice like that? Cordelia has second thoughts about lying on the settee. She hops up immediately when his fingers trail downwards.

<Do you mind?!> She scoffs. <I know what I asked of you, but that doesn’t mean you can spout utter nonsense.>

<Doesn’t it?> He grins as he leans himself up. <I will say you look much better in those feminine dresses of yours. It's like I get to unwrap a flowery present.> He lowers his eyes on her top. <Although this will suffice.>

<T-That’s not part of the deal.>

<We never made a deal, Cordelia. You asked me for a favour, and I accepted. We never agreed for me to keep my hands off of you.>

No…no they didn’t. His warm hand forms goose bumps around her exposed skin.

<Do you mind?> She lowers her brows. He eases his hand off of her. 

<How about this?> He grins. <You have to tell me a secret of yours. Something only a fiancé could know.>

Cordelia inwardly sighs. It was silly for her to assume he’d take it seriously—especially given his track record. If he continued his teasing, she’d smack him upside the head.

<If it’s a secret, you don’t need to know it.> She rolls her eyes. <You only need to know the basics.>

<It’s not for their benefit, it’s for mine.> He lowers his voice, making his stare more apparent. <I get that this is a façade, Cordelia, but I am serious about getting to know you.>

He doesn’t have to say it like that. She gets what he means.

<Fine.> She sighs. <You get one secret.> She crosses her arms.

<Well?> He asks.

<I’m terrified of spiders. Don’t use that against me.>

He cocks a grin as he makes the imitation of a spider with his fingers.

<Adorable.> She rolls her eyes. <I meant  _real_  spiders.>

He lets out a winded chuckle.

<What are you afraid of?> She asks out of curiosity.

<Solitude.> He admits. <If I’m alone for too long, well… it sucks.> It wasn’t planned, but he lets out a yawn.

That’s …fair. Cordelia was more of an introvert, but that wasn’t by choice. She’s the one who drove her friends away, so she had to live with the consequences.

<Which is why I decided to move to Inkopolis, to live with my beautiful Inkling bride-to-be.> He pulls her close, letting out another yawn. He frowns when she attempts to push him off. <You’re the one who asked me to marry you, Cordelia.>

Cordelia readies her hand.

<You might want to rethink what you’re about to do.> He lowers his eyes. <Domestic abuse is never okay.>

<Octoling… I swear!> She grits her teeth. He was being especially annoying.

He raises a brow as a smile crosses his lips. His eyes close momentarily. <I suggest you start addressing me by my name  _before_ we head to your parents’ place.>

Right… She frowns. She hadn’t meant to address him with  _Octoling_  so thoughtlessly—the encounter with Freydis opened her eyes—but, how was she supposed to keep herself in check? 

No. Cordelia collects herself. Time was not on her side. She needed to smarten up, and quickly.

<Alright… I’ll do better next time.>

She cocks her head when he doesn’t respond.

He’s fallen asleep.


	21. Chapter 21

Cordelia stares at the Octoling; his face seems so relaxed. She didn’t make a habit of watching others sleep, but his rather peaceful expression suited him. Cordelia’s envious—if she were to have a nap right now, all she would do is toss and turn. Both Callie and Marie had suggested the green haired Inkling get proper rest, but she finds that hard to do.

She’s got to take care of one very important task.

Cordelia carefully leans away from him, tiptoeing from the settee. What she would give to close her eyes. But… Cordelia sighs when she looks at the microwave clock. It was 8:45—she knew her parents would be sitting for their morning tea. Which means at 9:00, they’d be at their most relaxed. It was a Saturday, and her father wasn’t the type to work on the weekends—a strange habit considering how dutiful he was with his work. Cordelia doesn’t know how she’ll phrase it, but she got to keep her wits about her. She had to sell the Octoling—erm— _Radjerd Laurius_  to them. She had about fifteen minutes to come up with the right words. It should be fine …as long as she doesn’t mention  _what_ he is.  

Cordelia grabs her purse and walks to her bedroom. She closes the door behind her before sitting on her bed. Cordelia rummages through her bag and takes out her cell-phone—oh? She sees a message from Noralyn.

_So cool that you met my husband! What are the chances?! Let’s talk sometime soon, would love to do a coffee date!_

Hmm? Otis made it home to his family—it shouldn’t have surprised her. He did talk about how much he had missed them. Cordelia hadn’t dedicated much thought to him outside of what had transpired at the Research Facility. She would respond to Noralyn later. For now, she had to work up the courage to click her father’s contact name. Between the two parents, he would be the easiest to approach. Despite everything that had happened, he did have a soft spot for her—which, might have gotten him into trouble in the first place. Cordelia does  _not_ need a reminder of the possibility. It takes a moment for her to realize her clenched fist—her nails dug into her palms.

She is horrified as she shakes her hand. Fear was beginning to cloud her sight.

Cordelia takes one, over-exaggerated breath.

Her finger hovers over the  _call_  button—that horrendous nausea returns. She doesn’t feel like she’s going to vomit, but her stomach is pushing for that possibility. She takes one last deep breath before she taps Call. Cordelia bites her lip as the phone rings. A part of her prays that no one will pick up.

Three rings.

Then a forth.

Then a fifth.

She’s about to tap  _End Call_  before she hears a male voice on the other line.

“Cordelia?” There's great surprise in the older man's voice. It would make sense, she hasn’t phoned home in a long time.

“Yes Dad, it’s me.” Her stomach churns. She couldn’t describe how many emotions were swirling through her. She missed him, yet there was guilt in her voice—she wasn’t calling for a pleasant visit, but to investigate him behind his back… But, she had found out so much since they had last spoke that it was hard to find one emotion to stick to. Right. Cordelia had to feign excitement. She had just gotten engaged, after all.

“It’s been so long since I heard your voice—I have always told your mother to leave me out of your quarrels. I miss my little girl.” The genuineness in his voice stings. Until, she remembers that he could have called her at any moment, which, he certainly did not do. The only interaction he had with his daughter was when he sent her the monthly allowance, and that was through an automated transaction.

“...I missed you too.” That statement wasn’t a lie. She did miss him. Which, is what made this so bloody hard.

“Is everything alright? Do you need more money? You’re not hurt, are you?” The concern in his voice makes this much worse. His array of concerning questions weren’t unusual, but… Cordelia silences herself for a moment. She wants to tell him the truth, but there’s no way she could do that here. She needs to see him face-to-face before that could be possible. Cordelia moves the phone from her ear, taking another huge breath before speaking once more. She had to quell her nausea. Cordelia had to play this right, or he’d find the entire thing suspicious.  

“I…I…” Her throat begins to swell as she forces a smile. “I got engaged!”

The line immediately becomes silent. Then, a hearty laugh echoes through the earpiece.

“You’re not pulling my chain, are you?” She can hear his smile. “Because if you are, that is a mean trick.”

“No, it’s real.” She lies. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, but I only said yes last night—had to make sure I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life after all.” She would say her laugh is fake, but it was from the result of built up nerves more than anything else.

“I hope you didn’t keep the poor lad waiting too long.”

“Nah, it was only a week.” Granted, a week could have been accurate—considering they have known each other for about that long, but that was neither here nor there.  

“That’s great news! Your mother will be beyond herself with joy.” A wicked smile spreads across Cordelia’s lips. She’s sure her mother would be  _pleased._

“I was hoping we could visit tomorrow, so I could introduce him to you.”

“Of course! I’ll make sure to have Anthony run the office in my absence so I can spend some time with my favourite little girl—and the man who has  _somehow_  caught my daughter’s eye. I never thought I’d see the day after the Westley debacle.” While sappy, it wasn’t unusual for her father to talk to her in this manner—like she was a fragile little girl. But, a part of her enjoyed the affection—regardless of how childish it may have seemed.

“Yeah, let’s not talk about that.” He must have forgotten his initial disappointment—or rather—the new engagement was so bafflingly unlikely that he was able to forget it. Or, maybe …just maybe, he recognized that it wasn’t her fault. It was sad how the world of money was as sexist as it was—pinning almost all relationship and family problems on the woman. In her world, men hardly had to take any responsibility. Her father, as naïve as he seemed to be towards the problem, had empowered her more than her mother had ever tried to. Cordelia’s thoughts grow cynical—she hopes she gets to see the look on that woman’s face when she sees her “fiancé”. It will be so incredibly delightful.

“Shall I get Glen to pick you up for 8:30?” Her parents lived in Diamond Lake Estates, a half an hour’s drive from Flounder Heights. Their driver Glen was a relatively new hire when Cordelia still lived at home. There was another driver before him—Akerley—tall, dark, and his definition—she could get lost in for days… God, maybe she  _did_  have a type. She grins as her thoughts go to the summer of three years ago when the driver first started with their family. He was her first—and was many more—until they were almost caught by her father. Akerley decided his job was more important than a good lay, which, Cordelia didn’t take too well. She  _especially_  didn’t take to his new girlfriend and found the perfect way to pay him back. She got him fired—it was not one of her proudest moments.

“That sounds great.”

“And the gentleman will be accompanying you as well?”

“Of course.”

“How silly of me to wait this long to ask. May I get the lad’s name?”

Cordelia grins awkwardly. “Radjerd Laurius.” She was so used to calling him Octoling that calling him by any other name seemed abnormal. 

“Laurius?” Her father sounds skeptical. Uh oh …there was no chance that the General had told him about the Octoling. She grits her teeth. “Not that it’s my business, but I hope you plan on keeping our family name. I’m not sure how I feel about you becoming a Laurius.”

Cordelia breathes a sign of relief. “No worries about that, Dad. I don’t think I know how to be anything  _but_  a Firthe at this point.”

“Good, good.” He pauses. “And the children will surely be Firthes too, I hope. I don’t think I could handle knowing my grandchild being a Lar—erm—you know.”

“Dad,  _please_.” Cordelia shakes her head. She supposed her father’s ridiculousness is exactly what she needed to shrug the nerves. “That’s not going to happen for a  _long_  time.” Or ever, considering this arrangement was temporary.

“Well, don’t wait too long Cordelia. I want at least one grandchild before I pass away.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re not even fifty yet.”

“Age and mortality are no longer linked, dear girl. I swear your mother will put me into an early grave some days.” He lets out a hearty chuckle. It stops mid-track. “Oh, speaking of which, your mother just arrived. Should I put her on the line?”

Considering she could use her own phone to do a three-way, there was no point in asking her.

“Sure.” She places the phone down once more. Cordelia composes herself before she places the phone to her ear.

“Cordelia.” She hears her mother on the other line. Then a silence. Well, she sounds as bitchy as ever.

“Mom.” She responds in the same deadpan tone. She sighs inwardly. This was going as well as she expected. 

“Girls—this is no time for hostilities. Cordelia, tell your mother the news.”

“What news?” Her voice sounds suspicious. “Your father’s tone makes me nervous.”

“He’s excited  _because_ I got engaged.”

“What?!” Her mother’s shock radiates from the earpiece—no amount of tea in the world would calm this woman down. She inches the phone from her ear. “Cordelia, this is  _not_  the time for jokes.”

“It’s not a joke.” She grins, taking pleasure in the woman’s displeasure.

“T-There’s no way. You haven’t introduced him to the family—how do you know he is suitable?”

“We talked about this, Merise. Remember, we’ve decided to let Cordelia choose a man that she saw fit to wed.” Cordelia’s eyes widen. Well,  _that_ was news to her. “I’m sure he’s just fine. I know how choosy she can be, so he’s got to be of the highest calibre.”

The Octoling and high-calibre meshed together about as well as oil and water. Well, what her parents didn't know wouldn't hurt them. 

“It’s not that, Aleck, and you  _know_ it.” She hisses at the man. “I never said Cordelia wasn’t fit to choose her own husband, but it can’t be some random bum on the street. She needs stability and protection.”

 _Yes mother, you made it quite clear I wasn’t fit to choose my own husband_. Cordelia rubs her fingers between her brows.

“I’m sure he’s a delightful chap, right Cordelia?”

 “You’ll find out tomorrow I suppose.” Cordelia hums in amusement.

“See, nothing to worry about.”

Her mother mutters incomprehensible words before letting out a sigh. “I suppose it’s one step in the  _right_  direction.” It’s impressive; she didn’t expect her mother to admit defeat so soon.

“It was nice chatting, but I got to go pack. Dad, I’m sure you can fill Mom in on everything I’ve told you. I’ll see you two tomorrow morning.” She doesn’t wait for them to say goodbye before she hangs up.

At least her father  _tried_  to sound like he cared. She throws her phone on the bed. She can’t wait until her mother’s face drops. Let her revel in the choice she had made. She folds her arms and sulks. If it weren’t for this mission, she would never go back home …or, at least not anytime soon. A part of her missed the manor, the view from her old bedroom window, the parties she used to attend, the heated indoor pool. The life of luxury altogether. She doesn't live in a sty—far from it, but it was much different than the manor where she grew up.  She rests her head on the pillow—she’s too tired to become emotional.

There was a lot she needed to take care of. What tops her list is—a suit for the Octoling, a new dress for her, and most importantly …some kind of ring. She had to have  _one_ ring her parents hadn't seen. It wasn’t like she was trying to fool them into thinking he was rich—so a basic ring could do quite nicely. In fact… knowing her father, he’d slip the Octoling the money to buy her a proper one. On top of that, they had to memorize  _some_  things about each other—but as far as the story of how they met, and, how they got engaged, would be up to Cordelia to concoct. If she left it up to the Octoling, she's not sure what would happen. In fact, the sooner she puts that idea out of her mind, the better. Cordelia eases herself into her bed, pulling the covers over herself. She didn’t get to enjoy the sheer comfort of it until now. She would milk this moment for as much as she could. Who knows when she’d get another opportunity like this.

 

Cordelia wakes up to the sound of her 7 AM alarm. She briefly recalls the events of yesterday:

Cordelia allowed herself a short nap. Afterwards, she woke up the Octoling and encouraged him to clean himself up. The two went shopping for new clothes—purchasing a grey suit top, a salmon coloured dress shirt, beige khaki pants and a pair of black dress shoes. He didn’t like the idea that she was spending money on him, but eventually, he learned to shut up. The clothes should be enough to give him a cleaner appearance—the leather would simply not do.

For Cordelia, she purchased a lemon-yellow sleeveless dress with a white collar. White lace lined the edges, giving the dress an elegant flair. She also bought some white shoes to replace the ones she lost at Sturgeon Shipyard. The Octoling was curious to see how she looked in the dress, but she didn't allow him to.

They had a cold dinner consisting of sandwiches and fruits (just as the Octoling liked it), chatting about their plan. Both had come up with bullet points to memorize about each other. For instance, Cordelia hated marmalade but loved all other jams. The Octoling's favourite colour was blue, and, he used to be a smoker. They would have to go over the other details on the drive up. The minute Cordelia got through the door, she went straight to bed. The Octoling had the same idea and went back to the settee. The nice part is that he didn’t bother her about their sleeping arrangements. Maybe he was learning how to behave after all. 

Forcing herself back into reality, Cordelia stares out her window. Today was the big day.

Cordelia forces herself out of bed and hops in the shower to rinse herself off. She skips breakfast—she’s too nervous to eat (she had forgotten to grab some groceries on the way home). Cordelia makes it back to her room and slips on her new dress. She fiddles with the zipper, unable to get it to the top. Did she get it stuck? She tugs it again—dammit—yes she did. She didn’t account for those stupid lace hooks in the back. She grumbles as she leaves her room. Regrettably, she needed the Octoling’s help.

Cordelia walks down the hall. She knew where the Octoling was sleeping, but she was surprised that he was still passed out. Her eyes grow wide when she realizes that  _all_  of his clothes were on the floor— _oh god!_  Her decorative blanket was draped over his waist, barely reaching the top of his knees. That was  _not_  meant to be used—it was supposed to be a decoration! Instead, it was used as insulation against—Cordelia flushes—his naked frame.  

Cordelia makes her way around the settee and lightly smacks his shoulder. As the minute passes, she becomes more aggressive.

<Excuse me!> She sharply inhales as he comes to. <That blanket is  _not_  meant to be a loin cloth.>

He opens his eyes as a wide smile graces his lips. <It isn’t? Alright, I’ll take it off.> He whips the blanket from his torso as Cordelia averts her eyes. Out of all the fake fiancés she had to pick... She was starting to regret her decision.

His laugh does not escape her ears. <Relax, Cordelia. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.>

That was  _not_  the point!

Cordelia huffs. < _After_  you put some pants on, I’m going to need your help zipping up my dress. It got stuck.> She walks into the hallway to distract herself from his sculpted frame. <Your new clothes are in the black bag on the dining room table.>

<Is that all you’ll need help with?> She hears the definitive suggestion in his voice. She has a feeling he will  _not_  be getting dressed. She winces, feeling the all-too-familiar pull of excitement. Now was  _not_  the time. She had to get ready.

Cordelia flinches when she feels his cool fingers against her neck. They graze her skin as he untangles the hook, the sound of the zipper tickles her ears. 

She hotly remarks, <I need you on your best behaviour today.>

Her face burns when he places a hand on her waist. He turns her around to face him, admiring the fit of the dress itself. Now, both hands were secured on her hips—Cordelia looks away in embarrassment.  

<Gorgeous.> He grins. Cordelia doesn’t need to look at him to feel his eyes scan downward. <Absolutely fitting for someone like you.>

<Stop teasing me,  _Octoling._ > She mutters, unable to look him in the eye.

<Octoling …hmm, I can’t say I like the sound of that.> A playful frown crosses his lips. Right! Cordelia didn’t mean to address him by the moniker, but it was hard to remember. She did say she’d try.

<I’m sorry.> She sheepishly admits. It's a very un-Cordelia thing to apologize. 

<I know a way that you can make it up to me.> He places a finger over her lips as he lifts the fabric of her dress above her leg, his warm hand glides up her smooth thigh. He hooks his finger along the corner of her underwear, tugging it downward. She covers her face with her arm as she feels the fabric slide to her knees. She wasn’t strong enough to pull away from him. The excitable pang she feels is immense. She could stop him, but that would require some form of control. Her breathing quickens when she feels his hips press against hers.  

<Now, Cordelia.> He speaks in a whisper, raising her leg upward. She trembles when he slips a finger inside her. Her back quivers against the wall as he stares at her intensely. <I want you to say my name.>

Was he serious?! Cordelia can’t speak to him in this compromising position. She tenses as his finger curls upward. She opens her mouth as he lowers himself to her navel. He murmurs against her skin.

<Say it, Cordelia. Or, you’ll leave me no choice.>

His mouth ventures downward—Cordelia shudders as his moist lips hit her spot. His tongue finds crevices she didn’t even know she had. Her eyes roll in the back of her head as she guides his head closer to her. When he hums against her, it’s enough to send her over the edge.

Which is why when he breaks away, she could kill him.

<I want you to call me by my name, Cordelia.> She can’t see his smirk. <Because if you don’t…> He grazes her gently with his mouth—teasing her with each motion.

<N-No.> She stutters through hot breaths. <Go faster.>  

<I want to hear you say it with those sweet lips of yours.> His voice sounds breathless. <If you do, I will give you what you desire.>

He carefully swirls her tongue around her. She pushes his head toward her, but he keeps it stationary—god, he was going to draw her out.

<Say it, Cordelia.> He purrs against her.

<I’m not playing your stupid game.> She huffs between breaths.

<If that’s the case...>

Her eyes widen in disbelief when he glides her underwear over her rear. He just …stopped? She wants to scream—how dare he forbid her release! She curses under her breath when she breaks from the wall. Her legs briefly wobble before she regains her composure.

<Bastard!> She purses her lips as she calls after him. She can still feel the phantom swirl of his tongue against her. Irritated, she follows him into the kitchen.  

His smile is smug, deliberate. She hates how much pleasure this is giving him. She grabs his arm and forces his hand against her. He’s as quick to pull it back—and—he was a lot stronger than she was. Despite that, he pulls her against his bare chest.

He mumbles above her lips. <If you’re so eager for me, Cordelia—you must  _say_  it.>

Cordelia squints in both anger and desperation. Would she have to? She whimpers briefly before her face goes beet red.

She whispers back, <Dammit Radjerd, just  _finish_  me.>

The Octoling lifts Cordelia onto the island counter-top, stripping her of her underwear. He parts her legs, allowing his mouth to overtake her. Cordelia sharply breathes as her head hangs over the counter—her cheeks burning with the rush she felt. He takes his time with her, slowly. She tries to speak, but only a whine comes out.  

He pulls away, gently guiding her onto her stomach. He hikes the dress above her hips and pulls her toward him, easing himself into her. Cordelia’s fingers curl around the ledge of the counter-top as she withholds a moan—her sensitivity had heightened her pleasure. He gently pulls her hair back when she feels a moist finger edge its way around her sweet spot—he was going to get her off  _while_  inside of her?! Her sharp gasp of approval elicits a delicious laugh from his lips. Her hands perspire against the counter-top as she grips for dear life—desire swirls within her. Within seconds, she clasps one of the stools, holding on for dear life—she drowned in her own waves of satisfaction. It doesn’t take too long for him to join her, his own hand overtaking hers as his movements quicken—then—his sweet release.

_My god._

That was  _amazing_.

Cordelia is breathless as she slides herself down. It takes her a moment to remember that she had just soiled her new dress—despite the fabric remaining in perfect condition. No one would have to know.

<I’m doing that from now on.> He grins, wrapping a glistening arm around her. <The way you convulsed against me when you came—>

<Don’t you  _dare_  finish that sentence.> She crosses her arms. She did  _not_  need to hear a play-by-play. She swears he could get off based on embarrassing her alone.

<You are horrible.> Cordelia gasps in response. <This was the worst time for your philandering.>

<You said your parents wouldn’t let us share a room, so I had to take the opportunity where I could.> He grins. <I hear engaged couples delight themselves in this activity quite often.>

<Yeah, yeah.> She rolls her eyes again. <You don’t need to keep reminding me.>

<I think I do, because you’re not playing the part very well.> His laugh gets on her nerves.

<Oh don’t worry, the minute you’re in my parents’ presence, I’ll be sure to step up my act. I’ll be so in love with you, it’ll be sickening.> She raises a brow—how does he like the sound of that?

<I’ll take it over this grouchy Cordelia…> He sighs. <I thought you were supposed to be in a good mood now—didn’t I do a good enough job?>

<By torturing me? Hardly.> She purses her lips. It was a half-truth. Despite the frustration she initially felt, the end result was explosive. It bothers her just how  _good_  he was. When all was said and done, it’d be hard to find a partner with skills like his. He was setting the bar high—maybe he  _did_  have some kind of caliber.

She bites her lip as she adjusts her hair. It’s a good thing she didn’t apply her makeup yet—she had a feeling she’d have to re-do it if she did. Her cheeks are probably flushed too—damn Octoling.

He briefly strokes her lips with his finger. <I hope you’ll address me properly when we arrive at your parents’ house. They might be suspicious if you call me Octoling.> He smirks, showing his teeth. <If you don’t, then I can’t say I’ll be inclined to continue our …arrangement, per say.>

<What?!> He was  _threatening_  her now? <You said you would help me.>

<No, I mean … _this_  kind of arrangement.> He positions two fingers near his lips, gliding his tongue between them. 

It takes a couple of seconds for Cordelia to clue in …but when she does.

 _< Oh my god!>_ She slaps his arm. <I don’t need a visual!>

If she could get any redder, she’d be a tomato.

He laughs out loud, taking great pleasure in her discomfort. Of course he would. Cordelia huffs as she walks to her bedroom.

<I better see you dressed by the time I’m ready.> She orders, pointing a finger at him.

<Are you sure you’re not forgetting something?>

<And what might that be.> Her eyes roll …again.

He bends his knees, reaching for an object on the ground. She doesn’t see what it is until he hangs it from his fingers. Cordelia wants to cover her face with her hands, but instead she stomps over to the Octoling, grabbing her underwear from his grasp.

<I don’t think your parents would approve of you walking around without these—although can’t say it’d bother me much.>

Cordelia is not going to dignify that with a response. He laughs as she stomps off in the direction of her bedroom. They have ten minutes to clean up and make their way downstairs. Stupid Octoling. This was the worst he has ever been. She mutters to herself as she grabs her bag. Cordelia could take solace in her preparedness—she’s packed a few dresses the night before. There was no way she’d stay longer than three days. Her parents plus the Octoling were not company she could handle in large doses. She makes a quick stop to her jewelry box, picking out an emerald ring. It wasn’t the most engagement-appropriate thing she had, but it was a ring her parents hadn’t seen. Emeralds were her favourite stone, so it would be believable. She slips it on her left ring finger. That should do it.

Cordelia manages to apply her makeup within the five-minute mark. She touches up her lashes and pairs it with a shimmery lip gloss—which should keep the Octoling at bay, it tasted  _terrible_. Cordelia ties her hair into a quick bun, leaving the tips to dangle past her ears. That should do it.

She leaves the bedroom, her bag in tow. She double checks for her phone—yep—it’s placed right on top of her clothes. She’d put it in her purse before she was ready to go.

It takes a moment for her to realize that the Octoling was at the door—fiddling with the salmon dress shirt. She briefly scans him—the outfit matched him perfectly. It’s fitting to say that he looks quite sharp—a feeling Cordelia can welcome. She will admit that classy dressed men instantly flipped her switches. It doesn’t make up for his recent behaviour, but boy does it help.

The Octoling seemingly getting frustrated. She places her bag down and decides (against her better judgement) to help him.

<So you’ve done this before?> He purrs.

<Yes, I’ve buttoned up a shirt.> She rolls her eyes once more. She was tempted to leave his shirt half-open, accentuating his toned physique, but her parents would not approve. She leaves the first two buttons undone to give him a rogue-ish charm. And boy, did it ever suit him.

<If engaged life means you buttoning me up each morning, then I should consider making this permanent.>

<In your dreams.> She shakes her head. <We’re not even dating.>

<Then let’s start.> He lowers his mouth to hers. <Because I am sure as hell want to.> He nibbles the bottom of her lip, grazing off the lip gloss with his tongue. The tingle he left behind was hard to ignore. This was supposed to ward the Octoling away.

<I don’t think so.>

<I do recall you agreeing to go on a date with me, Cordelia.>

< _A date_  and  _dating_  don’t mean the same thing…> Cordelia comments as she slips on her white heels.  

<That must have got lost in translation.>

<Apparently.> She lets out a long drawn sigh. 

She’s not sure if she should thank his crazy behaviour for distracting her, because the moment she sees the time, Cordelia freezes in fear—Glen would arrive in five minutes. She places her phone in her purse. She sees the secure line and decides to flip it open. There was one text message—it was Callie, wishing her luck with the mission. That was kind of her. Cordelia checks her purse for the folded blueprints. There it was, at the very bottom. The Agents had a copy of it at the base, just in case they needed it for reference purposes. She would need it to call out her father …should he decide not to be honest with her. Cordelia doesn’t want to think of that possibility.

Slipping her purse into the larger bag, Cordelia flings the bigger one over her shoulder. It’s not too heavy—a few dresses, a travel bathroom kit and some necessities were all she had on her person—she always packed light. She quickly grabs the Octoling's suit jacket before leaving the apartment—he had left without her. She pulls out her keys and locks the door. She sees that the Octoling was waiting in the hallway. He gives her a pleasing look; his violet eyes focus on her bag. He walks over and takes it from her. Oh, that was nice of him.

He lowers himself, scooping Cordelia up while carrying the bags. This was just unnecessary... Cordelia should have known he’d pull a stunt like this. He always tried to pick her up. They makes it to the elevator—Cordelia shoots him a dirty look. She waits until they step into the elevator before she makes a fuss.

<Please put me down.> She sighs. <I don’t need this on top of everything else.>

His voice is low. <The moment you leave this elevator, you become my fiancé. I will treat you exactly as such.>

Cordelia gets the imagery of the Octoling carrying her for hours on end. In her imagination, he didn’t get tired. In reality, however, he would. <You’re telling me that you’re strong enough to carry me all the way to the manor?>

<Would you like me to?> His voice sounds hopeful.

<No.> She says flatly. <But if you have to get this out of your system, you can hold me until we get to the limo.> Out of all the Octoling’s weird quirks, this was the one she liked best. Of course she would never tell him—her intuition tells her he’d never let her walk another step.

As the door opens, Cordelia notices four Inklings in the lobby. They look unrelated—a group of friends if she’d have to guess. At this point, she didn’t even care—the Octoling had humiliated her the entire morning—what was one more time? He opens the door to the outside; the day is overcast. A white limo waits by the entryway with a tall, well-dressed gentleman stands by the rear door. From what Cordelia remembers, Glen was a proper man. She didn’t consider that he’d have issues with  _who_  her fake fiancé was.

“Miss Firthe, may I presume that this is Mr. Laurius?” He speaks calmly.

“Yes, he is.” She nods a little sheepishly. She whispers for the Octoling to put her down. Thankfully, he does. She encourages him to get in first. Before she follows, Glen gently rests a hand on her arm.

“Does your father know your fiancé is an Octoling?”

“I didn’t think it mattered.” Cordelia says, eliciting her proper speaking voice. “I’d like to think that my father accepts all races.” She didn’t want to be rude to Glen, but what kind of a fiancé would she be if she didn’t stand up for him. Right now, everything she said in public mattered.

“Fair point, Miss Firthe.” He nods, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Shall I roll up the privacy window?”

“If you’d be so kind. Radjerd is quite nervous and he tends to ramble a lot.” She conjures her best smile. “It’d be much appreciated.”

“Of course.” After Cordelia sits herself down, he closes the door. Cordelia remains silent until Glen rolls up the tinted privacy window. She figures the two could use this time to go over their plan.  

<Are you nervous?>

Cordelia gawks. That’s what she was going to ask him.

<Not really.> That was a lie. Her nausea returns as soon as the limo starts to move.

This was it. There was no going back. 


	22. Chapter 22

Cordelia watches the trees zoom past her window. She took comfort in the beige seats. They matched the interior inside the vehicle quite nicely. It wasn’t the limo she was used to in her youth—the white and black interior was striking (maybe too striking now that she thought about it), but the beige interior was classy. She loosens her seat belt from her neck, tucking it behind her back. Even with her collar, she found the device was cutting into her neck. She was thankful that there was time for her to breathe. The highway ran through a beautiful stretch of land that spanned across a hillside—giving great exposure to the Great Ocean below. They hadn’t hit that part of the route yet, but it should be soon. It was her favourite part of the trip, and a view she enjoyed greatly. Maybe when all of this was over, she could go to the seafront. A vacation was definitely needed.

She turns to face the Octoling. He was distracted by the sights around him— _thank the heavens._  She needed a bit of quiet time, and while he meant well, sometimes—no—most times, his mannerisms could be overwhelming. Cordelia leans her back in the seat and closes her eyes momentarily. She had a restful sleep, yet she felt slight fatigue—which should have come as no surprise. He had put her through quite the rigorous excursion this morning… She wants to curse under her breath. If he  _ever_  pulled shit like that again—she corrects her thoughts. That was the least of her worries.

Cordelia had plans to discuss the ruse, dig deeper into the tales that she and the Octoling have come up with, and, to make sure that they were on the same page. But, all Cordelia could do was sulk. She did miss her father—and as much as her mother could be an inconsiderate bitch, there was a part of her that missed her sternness. Was it normal to have such feelings come up before a reunion? She didn’t want to investigate her father anymore. She wanted to play ignorant to the situation. It takes her until this very moment to understand the strength of this feeling.

Her feelings halt when she feels a gentle hand upon hers. Concerned violet eyes scan her expression, looking for a trace of emotion. This is what confused her—the Octoling seemed to genuinely care for her, despite everything that had happened. He seemed so narrow focused that it didn’t really dawn on her that he legitimately cared. His past actions had shown it but she didn’t want to lament on the thought. He teased her so much, that his soft side only came out when she threatened to puke on his clothing. Such a realization makes those dreaded butterflies return. 

<You look terrible.> His frown indicates that he’s not trying to be funny—he’s stating what he believes to be true. <Are you sick?>

<No.> It was weird having the Octoling’s attention in this way. If this was his way of playing the concerned fiancé, he could have pursued an acting career.

<You look sick.> He says flatly.

<You asked me if I was nervous.> Her brows lower. <I told you I was.>

<No, you asked me.>

Right, she did ask him that. How silly of her to forget. She uncomfortably rubs her hands together.

<When I get really nervous, I feel like I’m going to throw up.> She sheepishly admits. <Didn’t I tell you that?>

<You did, but…> He trails off. She assumes he’s distracted by the view. Did they hit the Great Ocean yet? She peers past his head to see if her conclusion is right—nope. She should have guessed, they still had a ways to go. To be fair, it had been quite a while since she had last visited the manor.

<But what?>

<I was worried you’d puke on my shoes.>

Cordelia stifles a laugh. That was …unexpected.

<To be honest, it’s going to be a hard mission. My father and I, despite all that had happened, have remained civil to each other and it scares me that all of it might end.>  

He remains silent.

Cordelia understands that her father’s disapproval could dissolve her allowance, and housing. She had never angered her father to the point of disinheritance, but it could very well become a reality. And, it’s not like she could rely on the Octoling for support, either. He had nothing to his name. Maybe Callie and Marie wouldn’t mind a new roommate—Cordelia shudders. She begs the powers that be that it doesn’t come to that.

<I know a thing or two about exile.> He says with an almost amused tone. Cordelia briefly forgot about his circumstance. What  _was_ he going to do after he had helped her? She presumed he’d go back to Octo Canyon to finish his mission. Just because they took a momentary break doesn’t mean that the war did. Thoughts of the General pass through her mind. In fact, her father could be in communication with him in this very moment. It chills her to consider that a possibility.

<Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that  _my fiancé_  is okay.>  

< _Fake_  fiancé.> She reminds him, but it doesn’t stop her heart from pattering wildly against her chest. She finds herself ashamed how this man’s words warp her entire perspective—especially when he was most likely trying to egg her on. 

He breathes a heavy sigh. <I told you that as soon as we left your place, you would become mine.>

<Y-You mean, your fiancé.> She huffs. <You don’t own me.>  

He shrugs. <It’s the same thing.> 

Cordelia rolls her eyes. She wasn’t going to fight with him—if he wanted to play the part, better for her. It meant that her parents wouldn’t find their union suspicious. 

<Whatever.> She sighs. <Let’s go over some details first.>

<We already discussed our story.> It’s his turn to roll his eyes. <You and I met at the park, where you graciously helped me find my way to the immigration office.>

<Don’t forget how you took me out for ice cream and discovered our mutual agreement—Turf War was overhyped.> She adds in.

<It is overhyped, considering they won’t let Octolings participate.> He frowns heavily. <Maybe that’s for the best, I’d kick those little shrimps’ asses anyway.

<Don’t forget one of those little shrimps is your wife-to-be.> She scolds him. Cordelia did agree that the Octoling’s size would put him at an advantage, however, she didn’t think that Octolings were excluded from the games. <I didn’t realize that Octolings couldn’t play.>

Other species of Cephalopods could participate, so why not Octolings?

<I’ve never seen any in Turf.> He says firmly. 

Cordelia ponders—he did have a point. She hadn’t seen an Octoling participate either, but she hardly watched the sport. She wouldn’t have imagined it was because they weren’t allowed to play, but given Inkopolis’ stance on the species, it wouldn’t be completely unheard of. Which reminded her… what would the social papers think of Cordelia’s choice for a husband? Cordelia grits her teeth—why was it only now that she had considered that a possibility? No, she had a lot on her plate. It’s been a while since Cordelia had attended one of their social parties—which would likely happen in the days that she arrived at home. Or, maybe not. She doesn’t believe her mother would throw a party knowing that her daughter was engaged to an Octoling. She just may be exempt from the exposure.

<Moving on… I told my father that you proposed to me, do you remember that?>

<Yes, it wouldn’t be the other way around.> Cordelia takes mild offense to that statement.

<Don’t make it sound like I wouldn’t.> She folds her arms. <If I really wanted to marry you, I would have asked.>

<Don’t get me wrong, Cordelia. I know very well that you’re capable of asking for what you want.> That unmistakable purr in his voice trips her up. Dammit, Octoling. Now wasn’t the time for—she curls her toes as thoughts of this morning flood back to her.

She shuts her eyes and shakes her head. She turns her entire body to face the window.

<Now isn’t the time to be crude.>

<It’s not crude. It’s normal, given our relationship.> He moves closer to her as he places a hand around her waist. He leans her onto his chest as he strokes her back. This was …nice. She allows herself to rest her eyes when she hears the sound of his heartbeat against her ear.  Cordelia reminds herself that it was  _supposed_  to feel nice. This was her fiancé, even if it was only for a few days. The more she immersed herself into the role, the better she’d be able to focus.

And maybe …just maybe, she could dissolve her resistance to him. 

Cordelia holds his back with both arms as she lets out a relaxing sigh. She hopes that he remembers the rest of the story—he proposed on the rooftop of Waterford Towers—a restaurant on one of the tallest towers in Inkopolis. She kept him waiting until two days ago, just like she told her father. Hopefully, the Octoling had a good memory.

<Cordelia?> He says quietly.

<Mmm?> she responds wearily. She was surprised how relaxed she was becoming—the normally cocky Octoling who would rile her up on purpose was unusually comfy to lean on. She knew this before, but this was the first instance where she got to enjoy it.

<I don’t know how it’s done in your culture, but…> He pauses before speaking again. Cordelia remains in her relaxed state until she hears him say, <I want to date you—for real.> 

She opens her eyes as her entire body flushes in heat. She shoots up, widening her eyes at the Octoling. He had said that at her apartment, but she thought he was trying to get a rise out of her. Now was  _not_  the time to pull this. Of course Cordelia wanted to say no, she was not ready to commit to the Octoling this soon—they hardly knew each other. But, if she rejected him, would that mean he’d overthrow her plan? Great, now her nerves were back—mixed with the original excitement of his confession. However, it seemed to work in her favour because the Octoling retracts his statement.

<Maybe I asked too soon…> He comes to the conclusion himself.  _Thank god_. She nods in agreement.

<You did.> She leans away from the Octoling. <And, come on. I’m Agent 4. I doubt you’d be able to forget that.> She manages a laugh.

<I know that, and I don’t care.> His tone is serious—very serious—as he continues to speak. <I don’t think you care that I’m an Octoling.> 

The fact he was an Octoling wouldn't have stopped Cordelia from pursuing him. Yet, she doesn’t know  _why_  she’s so hesitant. She didn’t know a lot about him, but most didn’t when they started dating. What stopped her for pursuing his request?

<You're right. I don't care about that.>

He glides his thumb across her lips, gently pulling on them as he leans closer. <What’s stopping you?>

She doesn’t have an answer for him. Cordelia’s eyes look downward, her mind was in disarray, despite how her body lit up at his touch.

<Is it because there’s someone else?> He raises a brow. It was a fair conclusion, but Cordelia would  _never_  stray from someone she was committed to.

<No.>

He briefly smiles.

<It’s not you. I’m just no good with these things.> Cordelia can’t believe she admitted something so personal to him. <The last commitment I had ended poorly and ever since I hadn’t been too eager to re-commit myself.>

His eye roll gives her the indication that he’s dissatisfied with her answer. He probably thought it was an excuse. To be fair, it sort of was... 

Cordelia sighs. It’s not like she  _didn’t_  find him appealing, but to do this now lacked a certain tact that she thought even he would possess. She comes up with a solution, although it was more of a bandage than anything else. She didn’t want to sabotage everything she had planned.

<How about this? If we get through this mission—alive, might I add, then…maybe…we can give it a shot. But, you have to behave yourself in the meantime. Is that clear?>

The Octoling nods, although a deep frown lines his cheeks. He wasn’t pleased with her answer.

<I don’t believe you will hold up to it.> His tone is sour. <You didn’t hold up to your side of the agreement the last time.>

Cordelia recalls that it wasn’t her that made the agreement, but his manipulation of the circumstance that stated her part of the bargain—she owed him a date. He made a joke about it earlier, but she didn’t think he wanted more than that. Given all that had happened, he should have understood why she didn’t finish her end of the deal.

Cordelia stresses. <I didn’t know my father would be at the heart of this mess. Forgive me for being preoccupied.>

He sharply turns away.

Crap. She lost him. It’s hard for her to remain calm—her plan was falling apart, and they haven’t reached her parents’ homestead yet. She misses the awe-inspiring view of the Great Ocean as she twiddles her fingers in thought. The air between them was heavy—she had hurt his feelings.

Cordelia  _did_  have an idea. She clenches her fists together as she mentally psyches herself up.  _This,_ she would have no problem doing. She leans over and directs the Octoling’s head towards hers, pulling him into a spontaneous kiss. His surprise is muffled by her lips as she unbuckles her seat belt, throwing herself on his lap. Glen shouldn’t notice—or at least  _hopes_  he wouldn’t.

She breaks away momentarily. His violet eyes stare at her in confusion.

<What?> She shrugs innocently.

<I’m not used to you acting so friendly.> He says speculatively. <You don’t need to put on an act for me.>

<Well it’s as you said, once we left the apartment, I became your fiancé, so it’s high time I started acting like it.> She smiles, but he doesn’t buy it.

<I’m not going to sabotage our plan, Cordelia. I said I would help you, and I plan to see it through… but if this is how you want to play it.> He purrs. <I’ll be more than happy to participate.>

Either she was really bad at reading others, or this Octoling had the mood swings of a preteen. She has a feeling it was both.

<As you said, you’d be willing to give  _us_  a shot?> He smirks, bringing up her previous deal.

Cordelia bites her tongue. She did say that—and, it wouldn’t be so bad to test the waters… right? It’s not like she  _had_  to stay with him if he became unbearable to deal with. 

< _After_  the mission, yes.> She sighs. Cordelia envisions herself dealing with all of his embarrassing quirks. He lived to humiliate her. The worst part of it was, she had grown to like it.

<Is that a promise?>

Her heart flutters as butterflies erupt throughout he gut.

<Y-Yes.> Her cheeks are on fire. She hopes she doesn’t come to regret her promise.  

Cordelia hops off his lap and aims to refasten her seat belt. The Octoling stops her mid-movement and pulls her back onto his lap. His wayward hand slides past her dress as his lips tickle the edge of her ear. 

<You are not going anywhere,  _My Cordelia_. >

 

The limo stops, bringing both Cordelia and the Octoling to a halt. She leaps off the Octoling’s lap, realizing she had been lip-locked with him for the past fifteen minutes. A small smile graces her face as she adjusts her dress. It falls as soon as she stares out the window—they have made it to the gate of the long winding road ahead. Within three minutes, they’d reach the Firthe Manor—she gulps. She doesn’t notice that her entire body starts to shake until the Octoling brings her closer.

<We’ll be fine.> He whispers.

The telltale buzz of the gates indicates their approval; the bars part from the golden emblem that had previously bound them together. She briefly holds her breath as they approach the manor. The long winding driveway passed through the clear-cut grass on both sides. From an architectural standpoint, this land was gorgeous. Considering their property was 40 acres wide, it would have to be well maintained. Her favourite part of the property was the ocean view; which thankfully, was by her window. If she could sneak away, she’d take the Octoling to the beach.

< _This_  is your home? I know you said you were rich, but this is insane.> He says in shock. <I swear your yard is bigger than my entire town.>

Cordelia raises a brow. If he’s referring to his homestead, then he might be right. 

The white ivory walls of the manor were in sight. The manor proudly stood at four stories, spanning over forty-nine thousand square feet, leaving a lot of space between her and her parents as a child. However, this visit would not be the case—they’d be tailing her at every moment. 

Water glitters from the two-story tiered fountain as the limo pulls into the crescent driveway, splashing upon to the flowers that line the circular structure. Once the car stops, she instinctively grabs onto the Octoling’s hand. She doesn’t want to let it go, even when Glen opens her door.

This is silliness. Cordelia says to herself. She had to press forward. She lets go of the Octoling’s hand as she steps out of the limo. Her face is hit by a gentle sea breeze. She takes in a deep breath—for a moment, her nerves dissipate.

She was home.

Glen carries her bags to the front as the Octoling takes his time leaving the limo. She is about to ask why, until she notices his suit jacket. It looked unusually dapper on him— _very dapper_. She smiles a goofy smile until he locks eyes with her—she looks away immediately. She had to be proper.

“Miss Firthe, your parents should be in the foyer. May you and Mr. Laurius please follow me?”

Cordelia holds out her arm to the Octoling, who eagerly refuses it. Instead, he scoops her up—Cordelia has to make sure her dress is tucked under her legs—she doesn't want her undergarments on display for all to see. 

<Can you  _not_  do this now?> She huffs under her breath.

<How else am I supposed to demonstrate my devotion, if not to walk your steps for you.> He grins mischievously. <You should be grateful to have an attentive fiancé such as myself.>

<Grateful my ass.> She mumbles, but she doesn’t fight him. Sooner or later her parents would learn about his odd quirks. What she doesn’t miss however is the pride in his face as he carries her.  _God_ , if she didn’t know it was a ruse, she would honestly believe he was in love with her.

That mere thought makes her gut turn to mush.

As Glen parts the front doors, Cordelia whispers for the Octoling to put her down. He does no such thing. Instead, his grip tightens when they enter the large foyer. She looks at his face; his violet eyes sparkle in awe—the dual staircase lined both walls, spanning the entire room. Fine embroidered details lace the borders of the stairwell, showcasing the craftsmanship of the manor's construction. The walls sparkled with fine detail against the chandelier lights—her home was a masterpiece to behold, she had to give him credit where it was due. Even she was impressed. 

It was customary that all members of the household lined the foyer when an important guest visited their home. She noted some of the help had new faces, which wasn’t entirely surprising. Her mother was extremely finicky. It wasn’t until Glen stepped aside that she saw her father—and his surprised stare. She was afraid to glance to his right—the willowy frame that belonged to no other than mother dearest.

Cordelia immediately pinches the Octoling’s arm, whispering to let her down. To her surprise (and relief), he does. She composes herself as she steps forward.

“Mom, Dad.” She nods as she clasps her hands together—she smiles an awkward smile. “It’s been a while.”

“It certainly has, my dear.” Dressed in a tailored white suit, her father stands before her. He was a tall, lean framed man. Small oval glasses sit upon the bridge of his nose. His short buttermilk coloured hair resembles her own natural colour as his steel blue eyes radiate with love. He pulls her into a strong hug, letting out a soft grunt as his grip on her increases.

“I missed you so much, my girl.”

“I missed you too, Dad.” She says earnestly. She leans her cheek against his striped green tie.  

“I don’t mind saying, but that green hair of yours looks dazzling, my dear.” He beams as he steps away. “Doesn’t it, Merise?”

Cordelia’s eyes stray to her mother. She was a tall woman in her own right. Her pale green gown sat beautifully on her willowy frame. Cordelia was positive that in her younger years, her mother was a model. She had silver hair bound back in a loose bun, but it only accentuated her exquisite porcelain features. She was a beauty to behold—which Cordelia hadn’t inherited. Her hair and eye colour were inherited from her father—it made her wonder as a child if she was related to her mother at all.

Her emerald green eyes narrow—her face is placid. She never showed emotion other than disapproval.

“Cordelia, it’s nice to have you home.” Her cold tone makes the green haired Inkling doubt that sentiment. She turns to leave immediately, unlike her father who greets the Octoling with a friendly handshake and a pat on the back. She turns to her father who seems to be distracted by him—judging that the two could communicate, they  _should_  be just fine. She would take her chances. 

Cordelia takes the braver path, deciding to follow her mother up the stairwell. 

“Mom.” She calls out. To Cordelia’s surprise, she stops.

“Yes, Cordelia?” Her voice doesn't change. 

“You haven’t met my fiancé.”

Her mother’s face twists in amusement.

“Dear, I know you, and I can confidently say that he is no fiancé of yours.” She shakes her head. “It’s just some trick to get back at me.” She sighs as she folds her arms. “I know I was hostile towards you, and I can recognize that—but to trick that poor boy into believing that you would marry him—just to get back at me is absurd.”

Well, Cordelia wasn’t expecting that reaction. She knew very well it wasn’t  _his_  feelings she was worried about.

“Mom, I know it’s hard to believe, but I am marrying him.” She points to her ring finger. “See?”

She ignores Cordelia’s claim.

“I had my suspicions over our telephone call, but I held reservations until I saw the man. I suppose as your mother I should be one to blame for my poor behaviour, but you'd insult my intelligence if you believe that I'd allow this. You know I’d never allow an Octoling to become your husband.”

“It’s not up to you.” Cordelia narrows her eyes at her mother. “I get to decide who I marry.” Even if she wasn’t planning on marrying the Octoling, it was still Cordelia’s choice. At the end of the day, her mother could not decide her future. Hadn’t she already learned that lesson?

“I’ll let you have your fun in the meantime, but don’t expect that I’ll play along.” She silences her daughter before she leaves. “I’ll be in my study, it’s nearing tea time.”

An empty sensation looms inside of Cordelia. Her indifference feels worse than the anger she had expected. Worst of all, she didn’t believe their romance was legit. Cordelia should have known—her mother was a deceptively smart woman. She stomps in the other direction toward her father and Radjerd. Both were smiling and seemed to be carrying on quite well.

<Cordelia, I adore him.> Her father speaks in Octarian. <I’m a fan of how protective he is.> 

<Protective?> Cordelia wearily asks. Why is Cordelia not surprised that it only took two minutes before the Octoling spouted nonsense about her? 

<Yes, when he protected you from the stampede of turf players when the Squid Sisters came to town, and the time a bicycle almost hit you on the sidewalk, and the other time—>

<Yes Dad, he did a  _great_  job keeping me out of harm’s way...> Cordelia says with a sarcastic tone. She glowers at the Octoling as she elbows him in the side. He flinches in response, but that doesn’t stop him from draping an arm around her.

<My daughter can be quite headstrong—while I’m grateful that you’re looking out for her, don’t undermine her ability to take care of herself.> He winks in Cordelia’s direction.

Good god. Cordelia gently removes herself from their conversation. Despite her mother not biting, her father seemed fooled—delightfully fooled. She didn’t expect him to get this chummy with the Octoling. By that logic, everything should work out as planned…

_Right?_


	23. Chapter 23

Cordelia walks up the stairwell, heading towards the direction of her bedroom. The sound her heels make against the checkered tile brings her momentary solace. Portraits of the scenic hill fronts overwhelm her with nostalgia. Back in the day, her family used to partake in many road trips when she was little. Her mother had participated as well, but she wasn’t much fun. She would keep to herself, occasionally exchanging pleasantries with her father. She’d bring a book, or take long walks by herself. It wasn’t only on road trips either. Cordelia wondered to herself many times if her mother regretted giving birth to her. The only time her mother would fawn upon her would be in social settings, or at parties—when she was all dolled up. Any other time, she was either frustrated or angry with her for breaking some arbitrary rule. 

Cordelia stops in her tracks when a certain portrait grabs her attention. The painting was of a round-faced child of seven years with her tentacles tied back in a pale yellow bow. She wore a blue dress, and …oh, the painter did an excellent job on her eyes. Strangers would never know that she had a tantrum the day they commissioned the painter. It was expected that the painter would censor the child's emotions. Instead of a sniffling face filled with anger, the portrait portrayed a smiling, well-behaved child. Staring back at herself, Cordelia realizes that she looked like a doll. It was natural that her parents wanted to immortalize her childlike features. 

The green haired Inkling lets out a helpless sigh. Her feet carry her towards her gold-rimmed bedroom door. The coolness of the curved brass handle is reminiscent to her. She opens to see a room of girlish proportions—a queen sized canopy framing a fluffy white bed. Her end tables matched the gold and eggshell frame, complete with a matching vanity near the curtain laced window. Her pale blue walls were free of dust—the housekeepers kept the place in tip-top shape since her absence. She notices her bag next to her desk but ignores it in favour of her window. 

Sparkles of light dance off the waters, creating a picturesque view of the Great Ocean. She saw snippets of the sandbar below. As a child, she’d use the corner ledge of the wall to escape from her bedroom, spending many nights along the shoreline. Akerley even used this secret route to sneak into her room at night—which, her parents never caught on to. It was easy enough to do, and this side of the house wasn’t quiet—the waves made sure of that. Who knows, if he hadn’t been so bold to kiss her on their pool patio, her life could have been a hell of a lot different. 

Cordelia flops back onto the mound of fluffy bedsheets, feeling the silk fabric brush against her skin. This room made her feel like a kid again, and, in her family’s good graces. Well, half of her family at least… 

Cordelia sits up. No, her mother wasn’t the one on trial here. It was her father. Her kind, well-meaning father. The thought creates a pit in her stomach. It would have been so much easier if he didn’t sign that Rainmaker blueprint. Cordelia doesn’t have the will to check her phone, the secure line …any of it. She rests her eyes for a moment. 

A moment turns out to be thirty minutes. 

A knock disturbs Cordelia from her rest. From the formality of that knock, it could only be one person. Her mother’s emerald green eyes stare back at her. 

She gulps. 

“Cordelia.” She says as she invites herself in. “I’ve done some brief thinking, and…” She stops. Cordelia tries her best not to pull a frown. Any time her mother attempted at an apology, it was only because she wanted something out of her. 

“Whatever you want out of me, the answer is no.” She sits upright, folding her arms in place. “I’m not interested.” 

“I don’t want anything from you… I understand that I’ve been distant. But, it’s for a good reason, I can assure you.” She sits on Cordelia’s bed—the green haired Inkling instinctively inches away from her. 

“Cordelia, please help me understand. Why are you marrying this Octoling? Do you realize what that will do to your reputation?” 

“You’re over exaggerating. Besides, Dad seems pretty happy with him.” If an Octoling would have destroyed her reputation, he wouldn't have supported their engagement. In fact, now that Cordelia thinks about it, the two were likely still chatting downstairs. “You haven’t even given him a chance.”  

“I don’t need to—He’s not the right fit for this family.” She shakes her head. 

“Because he’s an Octoling, yeah, I gathered that.” She raises a speculative brow. 

“I know you well enough that you wouldn’t do this unless there was some kind of reason. You’ve made it clear to me you’d never marry.” 

“Because you made it  _quite_  clear that I should be married by now, despite the rest of the world’s advancement. You are aware that women no longer need to be taken care of by their husbands... And, after all these years, we can finally vote, too!” Cordelia's eye roll is a heavy one. 

"Don't be obnoxious." 

Obnoxious? No, that title goes to her mother. The sudden horror on her face confuses Cordelia. 

“God, Cordelia—please don’t tell me that you're marrying him because you..." She pales. "…got yourself into trouble.” 

“You’re kidding, right?” Cordelia shakes her head. Even her own mother couldn’t be that dense. 

“It happens.” She looks gravely uncomfortable like she knew from experience… 

“What do you mean,  _it_  happens?” Cordelia’s afraid to ask. 

“It happened to me.” Briefly, she turns away. “Your father and I weren’t married when we were expecting you.” 

All Cordelia can say is, "Oh." 

“I wasn’t ready to be a mother yet—in fact…” She bites her lip. “That’s not important. What matters is that you’re not marrying him for the wrong reasons. I wouldn’t expect you to go through what I had to.” 

That was surprisingly kind of her mother to say. Cordelia had to remind herself that this was the same woman who tried to push her into marriage at the age of eighteen. The interesting thing was, her mother had never let on that Cordelia was an accident. 

“That’s not why I’m marrying him, Mom. We just work well together, and honestly, I can’t see myself with anyone else.” Her mother seems to buy it. It’s because it wasn’t a lie. The two of them did work well together, even if it was always due to a bizarre circumstance. But, could Cordelia see herself with anyone other than the Octoling? At this point …she’s not sure. 

“I see.” She ponders. A look of pain shoots across her face. Without saying much else, she leaves. Cordelia wonders what her mother was going to say. 

Judging from their earlier conversation, her parents must have forced her mother to marry her father. Especially, if she was pregnant with Cordelia at that time. She was twenty-two when she had Cordelia. If her mother was in University or pursuing an education of any kind …it would make sense why the silver haired Inkling was bitter all these years. Cordelia now understands why her mother didn't want to go into details. It would have made their already strained relationship a lot more difficult. 

Thankfully, her father embraced her. Sudden tears slide down the Inkling’s face. Another familiar feeling reappeared, the feeling of loneliness. Cordelia grips the pillow from her bed and screams, as she had done many times before. If she buried her head in it just right, she wouldn’t be heard. 

After all, she’s had years of practice. 

A few minutes pass before Cordelia becomes sick of her tears. Deciding that she’s had enough of feeling sorry for herself, she throws the cushion from her bed onto the floor. She almost hits the lamp on her end table, which would have made a horrible mess had it fallen onto the floor. She picks herself up off of her bed, catching her puffy eyed face within the reflection of her vanity. God. Her mascara ran right down her face. 

 _Horrible._  

A bottle of makeup remover conveniently sits by the mirror. She grabs a cotton pad and wipes the corners of her eyes, right down to her cheeks. She swears if she cries one more tear, she’ll slap herself silly. Cordelia grumbles to herself, ignoring the footsteps behind her. She turns around to see the Octoling’s curious stare. It was rare that she didn't flinch, or groan. He was a sight for her sore eyes. Also, she couldn’t ignore how handsome he looked in that grey suit jacket. 

<Are you hiding from me?> He says with speculation in his eyes. 

<Obviously not.> She huffs, her voice still wary from her earlier sob. 

<Cordelia?> He says with concern. 

<We’re alone—you don’t have to act like you care.> It’s obvious to Cordelia that he’s not acting. Honestly, she doesn’t know why she said that. 

The glimmer of the ocean catches his eye. He opens the window and leans his head outside. <Quite a view you have here.> 

<It’s pretty nice, isn’t it? I used to climb down the wall as a kid and run to the beachfront.> She neglects to tell him about Akerley’s excursions. 

<You’re able to scale the wall, without ink?> He asks in surprise. 

<Ink would slide right off these walls—you know—security measures.> 

<So if I were to visit you one night—> 

<Don’t even think about it.> She hates that the idea thrilled her. <You’re supposed to impress my parents, not sneak around the manor.> 

<I have extensive military training, Cordelia. Even if this wall wasn’t scalable, I’d find a way to reach you.> His signature purr makes her melt as he leans her against the wall. He quickly glances at her bed sheets. <Your parents would never know I was here.> 

<Wasn’t this morning enough?> She blushes hotly as she turns away from him.  

<There is no such thing as enough personal time.> He speaks as his hands make it dangerously close to her zipper. He gently unbuckles the ties, letting the zipper glide down her back. Cordelia quickly shuts the door. 

<Excuse me!> She grabs the dress from the top, doing her best to keep it secure on her shoulders.  

<It’s not my idea.> Cordelia highly doubts that her father suggested such a thing. <Your father insisted that I spend some quality time with my bride.> 

<I’m not your bride.> She removes his wandering hand. <Even it were true, my father would never suggest such an outlandish thing.> Even with as forward-thinking as he was. She comments while nudging him off. <Which you and I both know isn’t happening, or have you forgotten?> 

He laughs. <It’s a fun ruse, I’ll admit. He likes my little name for you.> 

And what, pray tell, was that? Cordelia can feel her blood boil at the one nickname that comes to mind.  

<If it begins with  _my,_  and ends in  _Cordelia,_  I swear, Octoling—> 

She almost chokes on her words as the glint in his eye from before returns. 

<R-Radjerd, I mean Radjerd… You know that’s what I meant to say.> She stumbles over her words. <Don’t get all weird on me like you did this morning.> 

<That's what I thought.> He steals a kiss from her lips, while gently leaning her back against the wall. Cordelia attempts to keep him a bay but her arms turn to jelly against his warm frame. She wanted to ignore the amount of times their lips touched—it wasn’t even lunchtime yet! 

Cordelia whimpers as his fingers trickle against the fabric of her underwear… God, not this again. She tenses, managing to gain a little more composure. 

<N-No, this isn’t appropriate.> She speaks in a disgruntled whisper. 

<I don’t care.> He says with determination. He wasn’t going to let go. Cordelia should have cussed him out, but instead, she gives into his touch. <You’re going to stay right here as I draw those cute little moans from your lips.> 

Cordelia feels his warm hand raise her leg around his waist. Her heart hammers as he leans in, his warm lips graze the nape of her neck. God, not this again. 

A sharp knock forces the Octoling to let go as Cordelia immediately composes herself. From the sound of that knock, it was one of the housekeepers. Thank god it was not her mother. 

“What is it?” 

“Miss Firthe, lunch will be ready in ten minutes. Shall I tell Master Firthe you’ll be arriving soon?” 

“Yes, just a minute!” She glares at the Octoling. <You know better than to distract me. We’re on a mission.> 

<I know.> His grin speaks of his true intentions. <But, did you forget what I told you? The minute we left your apartment…> 

<Yeah, yeah. I remember.> She crosses her arms. There was one thing she could suggest to ensure the Octoling would act appropriately in her family home. <If you behave, I’ll let you fasten up my dress …and maybe, I'll leave my window unlocked.> It wasn’t entirely for the Octoling’s benefit—she wouldn’t mind the company. This room was starting to get to her. 

<You better not be lying.> He mutters as he zips her up, fastening the ties with ease. <Considering you barked at me earlier for suggesting the same idea, I'm not sure if I can believe you.> 

<I’m not joking.> She smiles. She was allowed to change her mind—it was the best part about being fickle.  

<God, Cordelia. Don’t tempt me.> 

She waves one finger in the air. < _If_  you behave yourself. You can start by straightening yourself up and meeting my parents downstairs for lunch. I’ll follow shortly.> 

It takes no time for the Octoling to do as he’s told. 

Cordelia breathes a deep sigh of relief as she takes one last look in the mirror. Her dress was on straight, at least. The last thing she needs is another lecture from her mother. 

 

Cordelia hurries downstairs, fluffing up her hair as she reaches the bottom step. The dining room was not too far. It doesn’t take long before she sees steel, emerald and violet eyes upon her. She knew she wasn’t late, but the staring didn’t help her feel welcome. 

She briefly scans the table—the number of bisques and soup positioned around the dishes makes her worry. She had forgotten to warn the Octoling that the Firthes enjoyed their soups. To her relief, she sees a plate of sandwiches by her mother's arm. The one thing she remembers about the Octoling’s personal tastes—he did not like warm foods. 

Cordelia can’t help but notice her mother’s strange demeneour—from the conversation the two had earlier, she shouldn’t be surprised. Cordelia sits next to the Octoling as her mother decides now is the best time to glare daggers at her fake fiancé. 

<I had the loveliest chat with Radjerd in your absence.> Her father speaks in Octarian. She sees her mother’s instant displeasure as she pouts crossly. <I knew you’d bring someone into the family that was an honest, trustworthy man.> 

Honest and trustworthy aren’t exactly words she would use to describe the Octoling, but she is relieved her father approves. If he could confide in the Octoling, it would help their mission run smoothly.  

“Merise, the poor lad can’t communicate with us unless we speak Octarian.” Aleck says calmly. 

“I’m surprised he can’t speak Inklish.” Her mother haughtily replies. “I don’t see how that’s going to help integrate him into our family.” 

“He assured me he’d learn, dear. Our Cordelia will teach him.” 

She ponders her father’s statement. She never considered teaching the Octoling how to speak in Inklish—perhaps if their relationship had progressed without certain conditions attached, then it may have happened organically.  

Cordelia nods to avoid suspicion. “I certainly do.” 

“I’m surprised you haven’t already.” Her mother mutters under her breath. 

“You haven’t even given him a chance.” Cordelia mutters back. 

“Don’t address me in that tone.” The silver haired Inkling warns. 

“Merise, please. She is right, you know. He is rather charming once you get to know him.” 

“And how pray tell can I get to know a man that can’t speak Inklish?” 

“Give it time, dear. He only just immigrated to Inkopolis—“ 

 _Oh god._  Her father shouldn't have said that. Cordelia immediately regrets making up that story. This wasn’t going to bode well. 

“He’s an immigrant?!” She almost drops her spoon. “Great, he’s probably using our daughter as a means to secure his spot in our home. God, Aleck, can’t you see that?” 

“Dear, please. I don’t want you upsetting Cordelia again.” He warns her. Cordelia can tell he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. 

Her eyes are briefly laced with tears as she looks away from her father. “You know what, fine. You two always got along better without me in the picture.” She crumples her napkin and throws it on the table. “I’ve lost my appetite. She walks away from the table in a huff. 

Aleck looks perplexed as he watches his wife leave the table in such a manner. 

<What happened?> The Octoling asks out of curiosity. 

She sighs out loud. <My mother’s having one of her tantrums again.> 

<Don’t speak about her that way—she’s hurt that you didn’t tell us about Radjerd.> His steel blue eyes radiate with empathy. <I understand why you didn’t—she and I haven’t been the kindest to you.> 

<It’s fine.> Cordelia’s voice breaks a bit. Now wasn’t the time to get emotional. 

<It isn’t.> Aleck reiterates. <It’s been weighing on my mind for quite some time. Can you forgive your father for his misdeeds?> He offers a sad grin. 

<Dad, I said it’s fine.> Cordelia feels herself tear up. God, no. Not again. 

<To make it up to you, there was something I was thinking about doing …but only if Radjerd is okay with it.” Her father begins, <As a wedding present, I’d be honoured to gift you two a place to call your own.> 

Any sign of sadness leaves Cordelia’s face. It's replaced with genuine shock. 

<A house?> The Octoling reiterates. He’s as surprised as she is. 

<Yes, and don’t worry—it doesn’t have to be in Diamond Lake Estates. It can be in any  _clean_  district that you want.> 

<What kind of a house are we talking?> Cordelia asks warily. 

<A home close to the seafront, perhaps?> 

<No, Dad. I mean, how big?> Cordelia interrupts. <We don’t need anything too fancy.> And, too expensive to upkeep. The last thing Cordelia wanted was a large home to care for if her father did decide to cut her off. 

<Well, a sizable family home, of course. I know that neither of you are thinking about this now.> He clears his throat. <But, in the future, should the two of you decide to start a family, it’ll be good to have the space for it.> 

He wasn’t being unreasonable. But, it sounds like a hope more than a suggestion. Her father was helpless when it came to children—it was definitely her mother’s fault why she didn’t have any siblings. 

Cordelia feigns a grin as she faces the Octoling. <Where would you like to live?> 

He looks lost in thought. 

<Radjerd.> She says sternly. God, his name sounded foreign coming from her lips. She furthers the act by placing her hand on his warm arm. He looks at her curiously as she repeats her words verbatim. 

<I like the ocean.> He nods. <You get the perfect view of the Great Octarian.> 

<See what they have near the ocean, Dad.> She breathes a sigh of relief. Cordelia feared that he’d blow their cover. 

<I’ll call my assistant to check out some properties. We can’t have my little girl live in that cramped apartment for much longer.> He grins as he makes a note on his phone. Genuine surprise crosses his face as he quickly shoves his phone in his pocket. <I’m terribly sorry, but can you two excuse me? I got to take this.> 

Cordelia wished she could get it out of her mind, but she has a bizarre hunch that message could have been from the General. She closes her eyes briefly before the Octoling’s voice interrupts her. 

<Looks like we’re getting a house by the beach.> The Octoling says without much enthusiasm. 

<Yep.> Cordelia matches his tone. 

<It feels wrong.> He grumbles. <Getting help from Inklings, it’s just wrong.> 

Cordelia groans;  _not this again!_  

<It’s not like we have to live together.> She reminds him. <I told you that you’re off the hook after we go home.> She lowers her voice. It’s unlikely anyone here understood Octarian, but she had to be careful just in case. 

<I don’t want that.> He frowns. <I want to take care of you. It’s my job.> 

Butterflies erupt from her gut—why did his old-fashioned proclamation  _please_  her? 

<N-No it’s not.> She does her best to shrug aside her embarrassment. <I already told you, I can take care of myself. If you haven’t noticed, I come from wealth—meaning—that if you are interested in me, the wealth would come with it.> 

<You’re right.> He nods. <I’ll find work—wherever it may be—I don’t want your father to pay our bills.> 

<We’re not even going to get that far...> Cordelia reminds him. <Stop worrying.> 

<What do you mean? Cordelia, you promised me that you’d give me a chance after we were finished here.> 

Cordelia buries her head in her hands. <That’s not what I—never mind. Cordelia wasn’t going to remind him that her father could very well disown her after all of this—and there would be no beachfront house for the two of them to live in. Or, in any place at all for that matter. 

Thankfully her father returns. Whatever had his attention, it must have been brief. Or, clear-cut. She prays it's not the General.  

<Apologies, work-related matter.> He straightens his collar. <Shall we take a couple of bites before our food gets cold?> 

Cordelia looks at her cream of carrot soup—one of her favourites since she was a little girl. She takes a few bites and revels in the flavour. Delicious. 

Her father and the Octoling begin to talk about their shared hobby; hiking. Not that she could be blamed, she only knew the Octoling for only a week—although, it had felt much longer than that. Their chatter meant she could get some food into her. She takes a bite of her cream of carrot soup, instantly delving into more. It tasted so good! 

Cordelia gets halfway through her soup before her eyes linger on the Octoling. 

From this angle, he was quite handsome. 

<Cordelia, I was thinking…> Her father’s words break her from her brief trance—thank god. If the Octoling had caught her staring, he’d never let her forget it. 

<Yes, Dad?> 

<I would love to throw a party in honour of you and Radjerd’s engagement.> 

Cordelia squeaks. There was no more need for surprises—her constitution could only take so much. 

<I know, your mother is much better at the finer details than I am, but I know she’ll come around for this. I know she wouldn't want to miss out on planning your engagement party.> 

<Dad, there’s no need to go through all that trouble.>  

<Of course it’s no trouble!> He smiles. <And, it’ll be the perfect time to announce my daughter’s immersion into Firthe Ink&Tanks, if you want to officially join the business. It’ll be shadowing my position at first, then we can go into the specifics of operations.> 

Cordelia is shocked. But, within her shock, she recognizes the opportunity—she’ll be able to see in-house operations. Even If she has mixed feelings, she would feign joy. This was great timing. 

<Yes, absolutely!> She says with false excitement. <Except, maybe ...we can announce the engagement later on?> 

<Nonsense, Cordelia. Be proud of the choice you’ve made.> 

Except, this was all fake. Marrying the Octoling was never a part of this arrangement. If she cancelled her engagement  _after_  just announcing it, Cordelia would damage her reputation even further—it'll be Westley all over again. Maybe she could get her mother’s help. This party was a terrible idea; her mother would definitely agree.    
   
<It’ll take at least a few days to get everything ready, so you’ll be able to take it all in. Besides, I think it’ll be great—considering we’re getting more and more Octolings immigrating from down below. You’re changing the face of our brand, my dear.> 

Yeah… she was. If she had known her father would be this excited about the Octoling’s presence… no, this was the best plan. If this is what her father wanted, she might be able to negotiate with him.  

<And you, my lad.> He faces the Octoling. <I’d love for you to be involved in the business as well. Should it call to you, I’d love to have an Octoling on staff. After all, you’ll be family soon enough.> 

Cordelia sharply turns to the Octoling, who is wide-eyed. Cordelia prays that he sticks with the plan and tells him he will. But, his prejudice against Inkling generosity might just lose him the position. 

He glances at Cordelia before he speaks. <Alright.> 

<Great!> He laughs a hearty laugh. <This is the best I’ve felt in weeks!> 

Cordelia notices her father had hardly touched his food. Clearly, he was excited if he wasn’t eating his soup. She feels bad that later on, she’d have to burst his bubble. God, why did life torture her like this? Cordelia closes her eyes. Her father might have felt the best he had in weeks, but for her?  

It was the worst she had ever felt. 


	24. Chapter 24

Night had come sooner than Cordelia had anticipated. Dinner was filled with conversations about hiking trails and places her father had planned to bring the Octoling. It was strange, yet nice how well the two were getting along. Her mother was nowhere to be seen, likely keeping to her study for most of the evening. She had debated addressing her mother about the engagement party but had decided against it for now. Her reaction at the lunch table had all been but favourable, and as of now, she’d need her mother on her side. Cordelia lets out a long drawn sigh. Tomorrow  _was_  another day, she supposed.

The green haired Inkling resides in her room, ready to ease in for the night. She excused herself early, but the Octoling and her father were so deep in conversation, that she doubted either of them had registered her departure. They got along almost  _too_  well. It wasn’t entirely a bad thing—if the two did end up together, at least he had her father’s approval. She groans the minute that thought comes to mind. The idea of a relationship this soon spooked her—she remembers what she can be like. Cold, distant, and disinterested of the social pressures it brought. Would the Octoling expect too much of her? No, she didn’t need to think about this now. She could ease into the thought as time went on—it wasn’t like she was expected to say  _yes_  tonight.

Cordelia checks the time; it’s almost ten. It was too late to be overthinking. She hops off of her bed and heads towards her bag. She should at least check the secure line if nothing else. She pulls out the grey flip-phone and scans it for new messages. There was one from Marie, asking about how the mission was going. Cordelia takes a moment to respond back to her (and Callie’s) message. She responds that she’s doing fine, and the Octoling had made great headway with her father. She closes the phone, placing it on top of her things.

Eying the closet door, Cordelia opens it to grab a slick white nightgown—a silk thin strapped chemise that felt lovely against her skin. There was no reason why it still wouldn’t fit. Cordelia slips off her dress and undergarments, stepping into the nightwear that she took from the closet.

It fits perfectly.

Cordelia grins—at least she had maintained her weight. She unravels her hair before calling it a night. She flicks off the lights, revealing that there was a full moon tonight. Moonlight pours through the windowpane, leaving a trail of soft white light to her bed. It was a strangely nostalgic sight; as a kid, she would have filled her head full of stories of fairies visiting her as she slept. Now, it was almost bittersweet—her life had become a hell of a lot less magical.

Cordelia resides to her fate as she pulls aside the bedcovers. She sinks into her bed, leaving her mountain of sheets to cover her body. She missed her bed—it was the one place of comfort in this entire room. She closes her eyes, attempting to suede the emptiness she felt. In that regard, her apartment was her saving grace. The old memories of this room haunted her mind.

It’s not long before the Inkling lulls herself to sleep.

Hours pass before a loud clattering jolts Cordelia from her rest. She gasps when she sees a shadow blocking the moonlight—now brighter than before. Cordelia rushes out of bed to unlock the window—god, she had forgotten about her promise to the Octoling. Even though she wasn’t in the mood to fulfil her end of the bargain, she’d let him in.

<I was worried you’d leave me out here.> He grins as he climbs over the windowsill. <I’m surprised how easy it was to scale the wall.>

<If a child could do it, I had no doubt you could accomplish the same thing.> Cordelia raises a brow. Soon, her eyes are fixed on his bare chest—wait, he was wearing his leather trousers? She didn’t even know he had packed those!

<Your father’s a talker—I was happy when he went to bed.> He breathes a sigh of relief. <You’re much better company.>

<You seemed to enjoy yourself.> Cordelia eyes the Octoling suspiciously. <What about all the places he plans to take you?>

<It’s not going to happen, as you said.> He cocks a grin as he leans closer. <Unless you want to marry me for real.>

<For god’s sake!> Cordelia scoffs.

<I don’t think I want to see a future without you in it...> Seriousness laces his tone. She wished he hadn’t said that.

<T-There’s no need to get married for that.> She mutters. <You’re just trying to rile me up.>

<What’s the point in dating someone you don’t want to spend the rest of your life with?> He says plainly. He frowns when she turns away. <Cordelia, why are you being difficult? I know that you’re into me.>

<I’ve only known you for a week, and here you are, joking about marriage.> She rolls her eyes. <What do you expect me to say?>

The Octoling folds his arms as his eyes glint. <I’ve decided that I like you. Unless you do something heinous, there’s not much you can do to dissuade me.> He points to the window. <Besides, you still owe me a date.>

<There’s not much I can do about that now, is there?> Her parents’ place was out of the city. She supposed Glen could take them out to town, but her father wouldn’t appreciate that. 

<There is.> He grins. <We’re leaving.>

<What do you mean we’re leaving?!> Cordelia speaks with annoyance. She gasps when the Octoling guides her to the window.

<Come on.>

Cordelia protests, <I’m not going out in this!>

<It’s okay, it’ll only be me.>

Cordelia lets out a despondent sigh as she approaches the window, looking down at the sandbar below—it’s been a while since she’s climbed down the wall. She does as he’s told—he probably wanted to walk along the beach or whatever—if that’s what he considered a date, then fine. Her bare feet could easily handle the sand—the walkway was smooth enough that her heels wouldn’t become tender. As she approaches the windowsill, she can feel the bareness of her rear against the cool summer breeze. It’s not like she hadn’t escaped in her nightgown chemise before …she was thankful it was dark outside. She climbs down with ease, remembering each step to take. The Octoling climbs down after her.

What she doesn’t expect is when he scoops her up in his arms.

<I’ve decided that I’m kidnapping you.> He grins playfully.

<Don’t even joke about that.> She mutters in response. Especially when she knew full that Octolings had a history of kidnapping those they took interest in.

<How about you put me down?>

<No.> He decides, <Your dress is too light—and, I'll freeze out here if I don't hold you against me.> 

His sheepish grin makes Cordelia frown. <Says the man who’s not wearing a shirt.>

<I can’t sleep in shirts—they’re too restricting.>

<You couldn’t have put one on before visiting me?>

He laughs. <How else was I supposed to lure you away? I’ve seen the way you look at me.>

She blushes hotly. He wasn’t wrong. The worst of it all was, she didn’t realize that he had noticed her stares.

<I couldn’t sleep. I’ve gotten too used to your company.> He says, acting like their previous conversation hadn’t happened.  There’s something else to his expression, but Cordelia doesn’t press. So he scaled a wall to wake her up… Cordelia’s lips curve into a small grin. That _was_  kind of cute, even if it was slightly inconsiderate.

<I know we’re here to out your father, but he seems like a good guy.>

Cordelia tenses up. The Octoling definitely notices. <Sorry. Forget I said anything. Right now, I don’t want you to think about our mission. I want you to enjoy our walk.>

<Our  _walk?_ That would require you letting me down.>

It takes a while for the Octoling to respond. <You’re not going to run away if I do, right?>

Cordelia unexpectedly laughs. <You’re joking, right?>

<I’m not. I need your word that you’re not going to run away.>

For god’s sake. Cordelia shakes her head. <I’m not going to run off.>

The Octoling walks along the pathway to the beach, easing her onto her feet as soon as they arrived. The moonlight reflects against the silky fabric of her chemise. Cordelia doesn’t know what possesses her to do this, but she loops her fingers around his hand. She can let her defences down for one night …right?

The Octoling gives her a warm smile as he lets out a satisfying hum. This felt more intimate than anything they’ve done yet. Hand holding was a true sin.

<I like this dress.> She feels him tugging at her strap. <I especially like that you’re not wearing anything underneath it.>

<It’s a nightgown—it’s supposed to be like that.>  _Damn Octoling, way to ruin the moment._  

<Oh, so I  _was_  right.> He teases as he lets her strap slide down her shoulder. She immediately puts it back up.

<Excuse me—we’re outside.>

<Tantalizing, isn’t it?> His voice lowers into a whisper when his cool hand glides up her thigh. <You wear this, and expect me to keep my hands off of you?>

<If this is what you wanted, we could have just stayed in my bedroom.> She glowers. <I’m not an exhibitionist.>

<Who said anything about that?> He curls his fingers around the fabric of her nightdress. <I wanted to take a walk with my amorous fiancé.>

Amorous; that was a fancy word. Yeah, he had been spending too much time with her father.

The moonlight shines on the Octoling’s face just right, highlighting his violet eyes. They don’t linger for long as he pulls her into a gentle hug. Cordelia almost feels let down—she was expecting (or hoping) for a kiss.

<What will it take for you to trust me, Cordelia?> He whispers while she’s still in his embrace.

She was not expecting him to say  _that_.

<I trust you.> She speaks against his chest. He’s holding her quite tightly.  She wished he could stay on one topic—he was having a hard time keeping up.

<Then why is it that you can’t give yourself to me?> His whisper grows louder. <I don’t want this to be fake.>

<Absolutely not!> Cordelia gasps. <I never agreed to marry you.>  

<That’s not what I meant.> The Octoling frowns as he lets her go. <I want you and me to be together.>

<I said I’m willing to give it a shot after we complete our mission.> Cordelia sighs.

<No. That’s not good enough.> He lowers himself to meet her gaze, cupping her jaw with his hands. <I can’t wait any longer.>

Cordelia doesn’t know what to say. She knew he was growing impatient in the limo, and he had hinted at it when he visited her room, but now, he had openly admitted to her that he had enough. If she was going to give in anyway, what was the point of waiting? Right… she was hoping she could figure out her own feelings before she gave in—it was a rather impulsive decision, after all.

<Radjerd.> His eyes soften when she speaks his name. <Why is it that you want to date me so eagerly? You’re getting—well—everything without having to commit.>

He frowns. <Does there have to be a reason?>

Cordelia pauses for a moment.

<I guess not, it just seems, well, strange. You hardly know me.>

His grin shares that he’s about to share something she doesn’t want to hear. <You’re pretty, and I know how to please you.> He lowers his lips to her ear as he whispers, <And, you know how to please me.>

God, if there was one thing this Octoling could do right… No, Cordelia was getting sidetracked. <I told you,  _after_  our mission.>

<Fine.> His eyes glance to the side—she notices a trace up upset in his eyes. Cordelia shouldn’t have been surprised. Rejection wasn’t easy for anyone. Cordelia eyes him curiously.

<I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.> Cordelia begins, but the Octoling interrupts her.

<You didn’t hurt them. But, if you think this is over, you’re sadly mistaken,  _My Cordelia_. > The way he speaks her name unsettles her. He reverts back to his playful nature. He whistles to Cordelia as he bends his knees.

<Get on my back.>

<U-um.> She hesitates.

<C’mon, it’ll be fun.>

She eases herself onto his back and grips her arms around his neck. The instant he stands up, she feels about seven feet tall. What she doesn’t prepare for is his take-off, running at full speed across the shoreline. She squeaks at first, but his amusement assures her it’s all in good fun.

<Oh my god, slow down, we’re going to fall in the ocean!> Cordelia screeches.   

He slows down, spinning himself and Cordelia in the other direction.

A laugh escapes his throat as he runs faster—Cordelia holds on for dear life.  

<Are you telling me that this speed is too much for Agent 4?!>

Cordelia slaps the side of his arm, but not too hard. She didn’t want him to drop her. He laughs as a response.

 

<Climb back up. I’ll follow behind.> The Octoling purrs as they reach the manor wall. It had been a half an hour since the two messed around on the beach. All things considered, things had been a ton of fun, but she didn’t want to stay out much later than they already had. Her parents would be cross if they stayed in bed too late.

<Yeah, I bet you will.> She knows it’s so he can get a peek. At this point, she supposed it didn’t matter, but still. Was there a point where the Octoling would ever quit? She jumps when his hand slides between her thigh. <Cut it out!>

<My hand slipped.> He purrs. Cordelia shakes her head as she scales the building.

Cordelia climbs onto the windowsill, grabbing onto the side of the window as she climbs through. Not long after, she hears the Octoling follow in afterwards.

<Who said you could follow me?> She rolls her eyes.

<I’m not welcome?> He leans against her wall. <I thought you said I was allowed to visit if I behaved?>

<No, you don’t have to leave.> She sighs. <You can stay if you so choose.>

<I would, but…> Wait, he was actually going to  _leave_?  <I should get back to my room. I wouldn’t want your parents to find me here.>

Was he purposely messing with her? Cordelia curses under her breath. What was the point if he wasn’t even going to stay? Just to torment her?

The Octoling pulls her into a kiss, breaking away shortly.

<I will see you tomorrow,  _My Cordelia_. > His whisper makes her shiver.  _No, don’t go… not yet!_  They had so much fun tonight! Cordelia pines in secret that he’ll change his mind. Cordelia grabs the corner of her dress—god, he must have been testing her.

<Radjerd!> 

The Octoling stops mid-way.

<Don’t go.> She folds her arms close to her body. <Please.>

<Am I hearing you right?>

<Yes.> She speaks louder.

<Are you sure?>

<Of course I’m sure—I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.> Cordelia mumbles. She knew exactly what he was doing. 

The Octoling leans back as he pulls himself into her room. His eyes settle on the green haired Inkling as he remains speechless. Cordelia stares at him without saying a word, her arms pull the man closer to her. She brings him into a kiss, moving him closer towards her. He gasps in approval as she whispers, <Don’t you  _dare_  leave.>

He takes the initiative as he scoops her up, topping her as he leans her onto her bed. He hikes her leg over his shoulder as he kisses her thigh—it sends tremors down her gut. He hikes her chemise past her chest; the fabric rips in her ears—she’s too elated to care. A pang of excitement overwhelms her when his kisses line her waist, pulling himself towards her lips.

He bites the corner of her ear as a loud whimper escapes her. She grabs the edge of his trousers and pulls at them. She can hear the purr build in his throat when her fingers make it to his zipper. He pulls away briefly;  _god damn it._

<Hmm.> His smile doesn’t please her. <I don’t know if we should… I’ve given you an awful lot of freebies.>

<Freebies?!> She scoffs indignantly. <You’re kidding.>

<I’m not.> He gently grazes his hand across her face. <It pains me to say this, but I’m no longer interested in giving myself to you for free.>

<Then why are you here?> Cordelia mutters hotly. She wasn’t interested in games.

<Because I want to try something different.> He whispers. He leans in as he gently lifts Cordelia’s nightdress over her hips. Cordelia halts when he begins to play with her—her grunts are devoured by the Octoling’s lips. She moans against him when he parts from her.

<Cordelia, I don’t want to wait anymore.> His purr vibrates from his throat. <I want us to be together.>

<I-I told you,  _after_  the mission.> Her cheeks burn as she speaks; he hadn’t stopped his routine.

<No.> She speaks firmly.

His frown is permanent. Cordelia feels her gut scream when he removes his hand from her sweet spot.  _God, not this again._

<If that’s how you want it to be, then I suppose I’ll…> He brushes his hand against the fabric of her chemise. <…Just take my leave.>

<You will not!> Cordelia grabs his arm and climbs onto his lap. Her weight forces him on his back; his wide-eyed expression is foreign to her. <You’re not playing your stupid games,  _Octoling_. > Her stare is fierce. <You don’t get to tease me like that, then demand my affection. It doesn’t work that way.>

<It does when you keep refusing me.> He grumbles.

<I don’t get it…> Cordelia looks to the side. <Why do you like me so much?>

<I don’t know.> He doesn’t hide his disgruntled tone. <I just do.>

Cordelia stares at the Octoling beneath her. She tried to deny it, but her feelings were the same. There was no reason  _why_  she enjoyed the Octoling’s company. It was like she told her mother …they just worked.

Why was she holding back?

What surprises Cordelia is when she says, <You know what, fine.>

The Octoling’s eyes widen in surprise. <You mean—>

<Yes, but one last thing.> Cordelia frowns. <If we’re going to do this, you need to let go of your pride. We’re in this together.>

This is the first time she sees his eyes so glossy. She doesn’t expect to feel his strong arms pull her towards his chest. He rocks her back and forth, she can feel the width of his toothy grin.

<I can’t believe it.> He says in an almost giddy tone.

Cordelia can’t believe how a simple yes had spun the Octoling in such a good mood. She wasn’t sure how she felt, but she knew she needed some time to get used to it. She did like him, and, if he was intolerable, they didn’t have to stay together. Cordelia shakes her head. No. She wasn’t going to waste her time on such thoughts.

Her thoughts go back to what she wants, as it’s her turn to demand.

She lowers her hand towards his zipper and grabs him with her palm. Without breaking eye contact, the Octoling slides his trousers down his legs. He leans upward, but Cordelia pushes him down with a single hand.

Her grin widens as she wraps her fingers around him. Cordelia leans back as she guides the Octoling inside of her. A sharp gasp halts his breath, as Cordelia burns with anticipation. Her heart flutters as she moves her hips, tugging him gently as her eyes lock onto his. His submissive demeanour is unusual, but it was about time he was humbled. He mutters her name as he throws his head back on her cushion, gripping Cordelia’s waist. Her mind blanks when his hand moves from her side to her sweet spot. She whimpers, holding his hand in place as she rocks her thighs against him. If she weren’t in her parents’ house, she would have been a lot more vocal. He, on the other hand, has no such reservation. His pleasing sounds danced along her ears, heightening the pleasure in her gut. He grabs Cordelia’s waist and pulls her closer as he gasps for air, drowning in the ecstasy of his own release. The mere sensation drives Cordelia to match him, her sounds of satisfaction echo through her room.

His violet eyes sparkle as they linger on her. A grin escapes Cordelia’s lips. Neither exchanged words… There was nothing to be said.

***

The morning sun trickles against Cordelia’s face as she stirs from her sleep. Little had she known that she had clung to the Octoling; her chemise was hiked over her waist as she had one leg positioned over his hips. He was still asleep—she allowed herself to look at him. It might have been a hasty decision, but… she could do a heck of a lot worse. His handsome features are relaxed as he slept. Cordelia almost felt the urge to kiss him. She would have been in her own right, but… No, it was too soon for that. They might have decided to be a couple, but, there was still so much that they needed to figure out. 

_No, Cordelia. Just enjoy this moment._

Commitment scared her. There were expectations, pressure.

_Cordelia. Enjoy this._

No. She couldn’t. She shoots up from the bed and takes a deep breath. Panic begins to settle.

_God woman, pull yourself together. It’s not like you’re getting married for real!_

This is why she didn’t want to agree. She knew she’d get inside her own head. If she screwed this up with the Octoling …she would be alone, for  _good_.

Cordelia freezes when she hears the Octoling stir.

<Good morning,  _My Cordelia_. >

She offers a weak grin. He notices immediately as he leans up against the headboard. <You’re upset. Why?>

<Oh, it’s nothing.> She brushes it off. She didn’t want to go back on her word—she knew she was being silly. It was a shame her silliness felt so real.

<Last night was the best night of my life.> He purrs, his arm encouraging Cordelia to snuggle against his chest. <I’m looking forward to many more.> That, Cordelia could get behind. She relaxes against him as she allows his heartbeat to soothe her panicked mind. Surprisingly, it works.

<It was nice.> She gives herself permission to say. They were a couple now. It would be in poor taste to fight it. <It’s nice not to be alone in this room, either.>

<And why’s that? It looks like a great place to me.>

<It’s a long story.> She didn’t want to get into the specifics.

<I’ve got time.> He gently caresses her back. She wasn’t used to his soft nature.

<I’d rather not.> Those were memories she didn’t need to revisit.

He gently positions her to face him. <You don’t need to face things alone. If something bothers you, tell me.>

Oh  _god_. Her face flushes instantly. He was being genuine. She didn’t deserve it.

<I’ve never been good at sharing how I feel. It just makes me feel embarrassed, or silly.> Admitting those words did help take the pressure off of her shoulders.  <Besides, don’t you think it’s a bit too soon to be spilling all of our secrets to each other?>

<I take my commitment to you very seriously.> God, she wished he hadn’t said that. The panic returns. Cordelia pushes herself away as she stands up, feeling that awful panicked nausea she had before. She never thought it’d be from the Octoling.

<Cordelia?>

<Just don’t say things like that, alright?> She looks away, shame filling her form. He was being kind, and here she was, being her cold self. This is why she didn’t want to be in a relationship—in the end, she would just end up hurting him.

She was expecting him to be offended, or leave the room. Instead, what happens is much less expected. Instead, he pulls her into a gentle hug.

Why that makes Cordelia cry her eyes out, she doesn’t know.

She was truly screwed up.


	25. Chapter 25

<Cordelia…> His tone is soft—too soft to handle. Cordelia winces, his embrace comforts her, yet, it makes her recoil. His comforting hand on the bridge of her back made things worse; her gut  _somehow_  swirls in elation, even with the business of her mind.

Thankfully, her sobs have stopped. She wipes the corner of her eyes with one of her makeup pads on the vanity—which was harder to reach than initially expected, considering the Octoling’s arms were cloaked around her. She manages to grab a tissue from the box conveniently sitting on the edge of her dresser—man, he just wouldn’t let her go.

<I don’t understand why you’re upset.> He speaks after she blows her nose. <I’m so happy I could nearly burst, yet, here you are in tears.> 

Cordelia scrunches her nose as she pouts. <I can’t help it.> Her nose is stuffy from her previous cry. She couldn’t help these stupid thoughts that plagued her mind. It was easier to dislike the Octoling, and now, she had agreed to date him. It was a stupid decision, considering that she still had to act like the two were in love, and engaged. God, even her father was planning to buy them a house! Cordelia inwardly groans. It should have been easy to like him—it’s not like she didn’t. But now, she worries that she made things needlessly complicated. How was she supposed to keep up appearances when in this state?!

<Was it my fault?> Traces of worry lace the Octoling’s voice.

A guilty pang follows—yes—no—wait. It wasn’t his fault, it was hers for jumping in too fast. But if she breaks away now, there would be nothing stopping him from disbanding their plan and leaving …and, she didn’t want him to leave. That idea made her feel worse than she already had. 

<No, it’s not you.> Cordelia closes her eyes as she takes a deep breath. The Octoling could hate her for what she was about to say, but she needed to say it. It wouldn’t be right to stay silent about this. <I need to be clear on one thing.>

<Clear?> He raises a speculative brow. <What do you mean?> 

Cordelia shakes her head as she eases away from him. <I need you to sit for a moment.> The panic starts up again as she directs the Octoling to her bed. He sits down, waiting for her to start. <What do you want out of this, exactly?> Cordelia might as well hear it, just so she could get all of this nonsense out of her system.

<I thought I told you?> He’s slightly defensive. <Are you having second thoughts?>

<N-No!> She yells, not wanting to allow herself an out. <Now that—well—we’re  _trying_  this out, I want to know what your expectations are for the future.> That was fair, surely he’d understand.

<That’s easy.> Cordelia braces herself. She’s not sure if she’s ready to hear what he has to say. <Once we’re finished here, I’ll kick that General’s ass and destroy any drone producing facilities that are left in Octo Canyon.> 

While entirely valid goals, she didn’t mean  _that_  exactly.

<I meant about …us.> It’s childish that she’s blushing as furiously as she is.

His mouth forms an O shape, soon forming into his signature grin. <I have an idea…>  

<And what might that be?> Cordelia asks with slight hesitation.

<First of all, I want you.> He starts, draping an arm around the green haired Inkling. All apprehensive thoughts cease, instead replaced with a long drawn sigh. She doesn’t know what she was expecting him to say. The Octoling leans in as his lips tickle the base of her neck.

<Stay focused.> She reminds him. A longing ache pulses through her when he decides he wants a taste. While her toes curled, Cordelia gently pushes him away. <I’m being serious.>

He sheepishly grins.

<Are you  _sure_  there’s nothing you expect from me?> It sounds too good to be true. But, he didn’t expect anything of Cordelia before—outside of her promises. Which, to his credit, was fair. Maybe she was overreacting. Now if she could only tell her brain to sod off.

<I don’t expect anything _from_  you, Cordelia. As I said, I only want, well,  _you_. > He smiles.

<Really? You said you were going to take this relationship  _seriously_. That leads me to believe that you want more than you’re letting on. >

<Why wouldn’t I?> The Octoling seems genuinely confused. <I like you, Cordelia. I wouldn’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I have no interest in pushing you away from me.>

Wow… That wasn’t what Cordelia was expecting at all. His answer manages to put her brain at ease. <That’s it?>

<Yes.> Cordelia sighs a mental sigh of relief. He wasn’t expecting the world from her. That made her feel a little better, even if there was a slight bit of apprehension still left over.

His eyes grow curious as he ponders a brief thought. It results in him rubbing his thumb over his hand.

<Cordelia?>

<Yes?>

<How many kids do you want?> 

Cordelia almost chokes on her spit. <It’s way too early for that kind of conversation.> She glowers. <There’s no need to rile me up.> Why did he have to ruin the moment—he could have just left off where he did unless he was hoping to wind her up. She quickly absolves her reaction.

<I’m not trying to. I’m asking because your father’s clearly hoping that it’s soon—like  _after_  the wedding soon.>

< _Wait_ , he said what?> From their earlier conversation, Cordelia didn’t get the sense that her father had said anything about children to the Octoling. Then again, the Octoling and her father had a long time to talk—like after dinner, for instance. But, why talk to him about kids at all? Why not wait until Cordelia was present? The very idea irks her.

<Yeah, he went on about it for quite some time too. He even reassured me he’d love our child if it turned out to be an Octoling—he went through an entire spiel saying that Octolings were more than welcome in his family.>

Judging by her father's reaction to Octolings in general, there was no need to be surprised.

<I think it’s because my mother didn’t want any more kids after I was born. He's always loved them.> She attempts to bring reason to her father’s strange behaviour. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make that icky feeling go away. <That leads me to my next question. What exactly did you tell him?>

<Tell him what? Was I supposed to say something specific?> Yeah, like it’s  _not_  happening. Cordelia doesn’t even know why it bothers her, it’s not like they were going through with the wedding.

<What did you tell him?> She repeats herself. 

<All I said was that eventually, yes, we would have kids. Is that suitable?>

Cordelia couldn’t argue that his answer wasn’t sound—engaged couples did tend to start a family of their own. Her thoughts jump to Noralyn and Freydis, young women who were ensconced (or about to be) in motherhood. It’s not something Cordelia gave much thought to. Obviously, her parents expected that Cordelia would continue the family line, but it was never discussed outright.

<What's that look for? I like kids.> He eyes her suspiciously.

Cordelia didn't realize she was looking at him at all. But, she shouldn’t be surprised that the Octoling didn’t mind children. She did get that impression—thinking about how he reacted to the Inkling child back at the park was proof enough.

<You don’t like them I take it?> The Octoling frowns.

<I don’t  _dislike_ children, but I can’t say that I've thought about it very often.> Cordelia can tell the Octoling is evaluating her as she speaks. <With the kind of family I have, can you blame me?>

<So you never thought about what it’d be like to have a family together?> He asks with a frown.  

What?  _Of course not!_ <Why would I? We only just met!> She says hotly. It was no joke that Octolings wasted  _no_ time with matters of the heart. Which begged the question, <Have you?>

<I have. Do you think I would have asked you to date me if I hadn’t?>

Cordelia's wide-eyed. She's not sure how she feels about what he's just said. So much for having no expectations, especially since he's mentally approved her to be the mother of his future child. This was not helping  _that_  side of her brain calm down.

The Octoling continues, <If we are being honest about it, I was hoping I'd be settled and have a family by now, but you know—life happens.> He's put out by his own comment. <I'm almost twenty-four and have nothing to show for it.>

Cordelia doesn’t get it. If he was only twenty-three, why the heck was he worried about not being settled at such a young age? It must have been an Octarian thing, both Otis and Freydis looked young, and both were in the family way. She can see the discomfort on his face.

<Hey, it’s not a big deal.> Cordelia attempts a smile as she inches over to the Octoling. <I don’t have my life figured out either.>

<But you’re rich, you don’t have to worry about paying your bills. I'm jobless, and I got kicked out of my home. No wonder you didn’t think much about me—there would be no way I could support a family under these conditions.>

A nervous laugh escapes Cordelia’s throat. If she told him not to worry about it, he could easily spin that against her. There wasn’t much she could say to cheer him up.

<You must think pretty poorly of me.>

<No, I don’t care about all that.> Cordelia shakes her head. The best thing she could do was tell him the truth. <I’m not interested in settling down. I only left home a year ago, and there’s plenty more I plan to do. Which means you have time to figure yourself out. Besides, as I said—you and I are supposed to look out for each other.> A hollow feeling enters Cordelia’s gut. She should take her own advice.

<I know what you said.> The Octoling’s stare becomes intense. <It’s not just that.> His voice lowers to a murmur. <The minute the Octarians attack, I’ll be locked up for a suspect.> That must have lingered on his mind for quite some time.

<Do you think my father would allow his ‘son-in-law’ to be thrown in prison under suspect?> Cordelia makes a valid point. <As long as others believe our engagement story, it shouldn’t be a problem.>

His mood sours. <He can't stop the law, Cordelia. And, our engagement is fake. We’d have to get  _married_  otherwise, and you made it clear that you’re not interested. Not that I blame you.>

<I never took you to be the type to pity yourself.> She lets out a long drawn sigh. <You’re speaking about a lot of if’s, and if my father is so set on throwing us an engagement party, you’re obviously not at risk. My family  _will_  protect you.> It was a weighty promise, but Cordelia would ensure that it stays true. The Octoling wasn’t going anywhere. <In the meantime, I’m sure the Agents could help you get a permanent residency card—>

 _ <No.>   _ He frowns heavily. <I am  _not_  accepting any help from that  _bitch_. >

<A  _bitch_  who can save your ass from being deported.> Cordelia stresses. <Unless that’s what you want.> Shit. She didn’t mean to sound so aggressive. 

The Octoling’s violet eyes lose their spark. He grabs her hand and holds it tight. <I was so focused on destroying those drones that I lost sight of everything. It’s why Freydis left me, why I got exiled from my home…> He looks away. <Now I’ve dragged you into this mess. I’m so sorry.> His head droops—he can’t bear to look at her.

Cordelia does her best to stay composed. <I told you that I’m willing to help you destroy the testing facility. It’ll help me as much as it’ll help you.> Cordelia angles herself so she can see the Octoling’s face. It’s easy to see that he doesn’t approve—his furrowed brows and deep frown are clear indications of that. <You know I’m more than capable—I’ve already taken down one of your military generals.>

<…I know.> Confliction laces his voice. <I get that you’re capable. But if you got hurt, or worse—I’d never forgive myself.>

It’s flattering that he cares as much as he does, but Cordelia has to correct him. <I get that, but, it’s not your choice to make. When we’re finished here, I’m coming with you—whether you like it or not. It’s as I said, we’re in this together.> She nods her head. All traces of uncertainty leave her body as she gently rests her hand against his face. His violet eyes moisten briefly as his warm smile instantly lights the room.

Cordelia is struck—he’s absolutely gorgeous. She leans in. Her lips soften against his—she can feel the rapid beat of his heart. Elation fills her as she feels his sturdy hands on her back. Was this what it felt like to lose all care in the world? It was as if a curtain threaded with her own delusions had been lifted. At this moment, Cordelia prays it remains that way. Her fingers curl around his ear, tracing a teasing path down the side of his neck—she could feel him shiver. It was delicious. She did  _not_ wish to break the kiss that enticed the both of them. This position gave her full access to his body—no.

It was just a kiss.

Only a kiss.

The Octoling’s gentle embrace furthered her longing. His small whispers between breaths were making her ache. Why was it now that she felt so  _attracted_  to him? It’s reminiscent of when she had met him—that delightfully wobbly feeling she felt in her legs. She was pining for him, despite having a taste of him— _multiple_ times.

She was the worst hypocrite there was.

He’s gentle when he releases her. But, it’s only for a moment before she pulls him back. The heat emanating between them was growing much too hot. Just the way Cordelia liked it. Her face no doubt was stained with a crimson flush. This time …things felt different. There was nothing holding her back. She could give in.

Unfortunately, the timing was horrible.  

A sharp knock echoes through the room. Cordelia jumps; the Octoling catches her before she falls to the ground. With a knock this strong, it could be only one person—her mother. Cordelia whispers for the Octoling to hide—it was up to him to decide where that was. She straightens her chemise and hurries to address her mother. God, she hopes the colours of her cheeks even out. 

“Good morning!” Cordelia smiles as her hair droops to the side. “What are you doing up so …early?” Her mother’s frown indicates that she’s not amused.

“It’s almost noon. Why aren’t you out of bed yet?” The intense speculation of the silver haired Inkling’s emerald eyes was indication enough; her mother  _knew_  the Octoling was here.

“You know, rough night last night. Tiring. Yep.” Cordelia isn’t even lying—although it was more enjoyable than rough—but, she was most certainly tired.

“When you’re  _decent_ , please meet me in my study.” She says curtly. “And please tell your  _fiancé_ to join your father for lunch—apparently they’ve agreed to map out some trail together—or some nonsense.” She rolls her eyes.

“Mom, Radjerd is in his room. He’s not here—“

“Cordelia, please save the stories for your father. Now, get dressed. Don’t keep me waiting.” Cordelia closes the door; her face pale from her mother’s words. How did she know he was here? 

Cordelia glances over, noticing that the Octoling is hiding behind one of her curtains. He peeks from behind the fabric.

<It’s safe to come out now. Apparently, she knew you were here.>

<Was she mad?>

<I don’t think so, but she did look pretty serious. You never told me that my father wanted to map out trails with you?> She says as she looks through her bag for some clothes to wear. 

<Oh, right. I forgot about that.> The Octoling hops out of bed and fastens his leather trousers. He heads towards the window.

Cordelia points to the door. <You might as well leave through normal means.> She wished he brought a shirt before leaving. He'll look ridiculous dressed like that ...even though she found his look  _quite_  appealing. 

<Why does she need to talk to you?>

<I’m not sure…> If Cordelia were to guess, it was going to be a griping session about the Octoling, and  _why_  she’s marrying him. She’d be surprised if it wasn’t.

Cordelia pulls out a white and blue dress. It was simple, but it would do for now. She tells herself that she should shower, but it sounded like her mother wanted to talk to her sooner rather than later. She grabs her undergarments from the floor and manages to slip them on without much attention from the Octoling. It’s when she slips into her dress that she feels his warm arms around her waist.

<Do you mind?> She says crossly. <I’m trying to get dressed.>

The Octoling leans in and kisses her cheek. <You’re going to be the reason I’m smiling today,  _My Cordelia_. > His purr makes her ears sing.

Cordelia smiles a light smile as she heads towards her door. <I’ll see you later—and please, if my father goes on about this kid nonsense, you’ll set him straight—right?>

The Octoling nods.

<Good.>

Cordelia closes the door behind her as she scans the hallway. Her mother’s study was on the second floor, to the right. She quickly steps in the direction, minding that she forgot her shoes. Cordelia wasn’t going to bother, she was almost there. She hurries down the stairs, passing the family portrait on the right. She always hated that painting—it highlighted her awkward preteen self. She does her best to ignore it and instead focuses on the white framed door ahead—the door to her mother’s study is slightly ajar. She knocks briskly before entering. No answer, but Cordelia decides to infiltrate.

“Mom?” Cordelia peeks her head through the crack of the door. She steps in, quietly closing the door behind her. Her mother sits properly in her rose coloured chair. Her desk is clear—the only item residing on the surface is a sole porcelain teacup. Steam emanates from the top—it’s a fresh cup. Boy, she was in for a doozy. She chooses to sit in the cream coloured lounge chair sitting next to the window. It was easier not to see her mother’s intense glare this way.

She folds her hands calmly, leaning her head against them before she begins.

“I know that I’ve been …shall I say,  _distant_.”

 _Yes, you have._ Cordelia mutters to herself. There was no need to argue with her.

“I’ll just come out and say it.” She takes a sharp breath. “Cordelia, this family isn’t—” The sudden break in her sentence worries the green haired Inkling. The change of subject worries her even more. “I don’t understand what you’re  _thinking_ , bringing an Octoling into this family.” Yeah, this is about what she had expected. Recalling her mother’s bratty incident at the lunch table further cements that fact.

“Mom, we went over this.” Cordelia begins before she’s cut off.

“You don’t get it. Do you have  _any_  idea what happens to Octolings in this family?” No, and maybe she would understand if her mother did a better job at explaining what the hell was going on. “I can’t bear to think what would happen your child was one—it’d be a disaster.” Cordelia wants to groan. If she never had to hear reference of her inexistent future offspring again, that’d be fantastic.

“Seriously?” She grows frustrated. “You just called me into your study to bitch about my fiancé, and some kid that doesn’t even exist? I’m sorry that I’m marrying an Octoling. Honestly, what’s your problem?! Are you  _against_  me being happy?”

Her mother’s stunned into silence. She holds back her disapproving stare.

“Cordelia.” She says calmly. “I didn’t call you here to argue. I don’t think you understand the grief that’s ahead of you. Once others find out about your engagement—once your grandfather finds out—I’m not sure what will happen.” Her worried stare falls on the bookcase.

Cordelia didn’t know her paternal grandfather very well. She only knew that her father didn’t like him. He would send her birthday cards, and that was the extent of the contact that she had with the man. 

“So what if Grandfather doesn’t approve of my fiancé? If he’s not going to respect my family, then I want nothing to do with him.” She replies drily. “Now if we’re done, I wouldn’t mind getting back to what I was doing." 

“No, we’re not done.” Her mother’s commanding tone freezes Cordelia in her tracks. She sits up straight in her chair. Her cool, yet intimidating tone scared her as a child. It still scares her now.  

“You’re not thinking of the repercussions, Cordelia. People will talk—he  _will_  be scorned. Do you want that for him?”

“Things are changing. It might be tough at first, but we’ll get there.” While Cordelia knew that their engagement wasn’t real, the feelings she felt definitely were. These were all legitimate concerns her mother was voicing, and to be fair, it would create quite a stir once her father announced their engagement. Unless she asked her mother to stop it… Cordelia pauses. No, that wouldn’t make any sense. She’s supposed to act like she’s in love—and what kind of person would deny the perfect opportunity to display their love for all to see? Both panic and elation course through her veins. She wouldn’t say that she  _loved_  the Octoling, but she most certainly cared for him. The panic was from the realization that she cared. But, how long would that last before her fear returned?

God. She was  _worse_  than fickle.

“Think about your children, Cordelia. What if one is an Octoling? Do you want them to suffer?”

“You know what? I had  _enough_  of this!” Cordelia stands up, her face red with frustration. “What is wrong with the two of you? First, Dad’s telling the Octo—erm—Radjerd that he wants  _god knows_  how many grandkids, and then you’re yelling at me because I might not have the right  _breed_  of grandchild?  _God_ —this is so messed up! Don’t you two have anything better to do than to worry about the Firthe dynasty?!”

“First off.” Cordelia’s mother says quite flustered, but she retains her composure as she softly clears her throat. “I didn’t mean that I wouldn’t care for an Octoling granddaughter—or grandson, rather, it might be hard for them to adapt in our society.” Her stare grows intense when she asks, “Why on earth is your father interfering?”

“I don’t know. But I at least thought that he’d wait until I was present before he would discuss anything like that with Radjerd." 

Her mother wears a heavy frown. “What did he say to you—your Octoling?”

 _Her_  Octoling? Well, that was a start… a very slow start, but nonetheless, her mother was moving in the right direction.

“Well, he just mentioned that Dad was talking about it. Honestly, I didn’t think it was a big deal, maybe a bit nosey, but not something to freak out over.”

“Cordelia…” Her expression is pained. She stares at the tiled floor with great perplexity. “There are many things about your father that you don’t know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cordelia braces herself for the worst.

“I don’t know how to tell you this.” She breathes deeply before continuing. “But you marrying that Octoling will benefit your father greatly." 

“How so?” Cordelia immediately becomes suspicious.  _There was no way that she knew…_

Her mother’s words prove otherwise. “He’s working with the Octarians.”


	26. Chapter 26

“Mom?” Cordelia begins, but she is quickly cut off by the woman’s sharp tone.

“Cordelia please, let me explain.” She wanted to tell the silver haired Inkling that no explanation was needed—she  _knew_  her father had been collaborating with the enemy …or, could she even say that the Octarians were the enemy anymore? Every Octoling she had met in the last week had been kind—even Freydis, who had initially tried to kill her. Her sympathies were with the Elite Octoling. Maybe if things were different, they could have been friends. A longing pang emanated from her gut. It was surprising to Cordelia that she longed for a friendship with Freydis. It was ironic that Cordelia found better company with the supposed  _enemy_  than her own kind.

“Cordelia, I know you’re not listening.” Her mother curtly says. “This is the one time I need you to.”

“I’m sorry.” Cordelia wasn’t sure if her mother had continued speaking. She had zoned out—which was probably the wrong time to do so. Considering that her mother could know information that she didn’t, Cordelia needed to pay attention. “I do have to tell you something—and it has to do with Dad.”

“Did you hear what I said correctly?” Her emerald eyes study Cordelia intensely. “I know this may come as a shock, but  _please_  let me finish before you decide to tune me out.”

“Mom.  _I know_.”

“Know what?”

She takes a deep breath. “I know about Dad.”

Her mother’s hand drapes in front of her mouth.

“Why do you think I came home?” Cordelia whispers softly.

“H-How did you know?”

“Because I’m Agent 4.” Cordelia winces.

“Agent  _what?”_  Her mother’s in stark disbelief.

“ _After_  you threatened me homeless, I took shelter on some ugly red couch near the Agents’ base. I was almost clobbered by Marie the next morning, thinking I was a freeloader—which I was, thanks to you—“

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her mother cuts her off. “Your father had arranged a place for you. I know he called you a couple of days after you ran away from us.”

Cordelia ignores her mother’s recollection, despite it being true. “Anyways, I was exactly what she needed, as Callie had gone missing around that time. It was gruesome, awful, disgusting, but through that experience, I learned how to defend myself. I saved Callie, hell—the entire city!”

“Cordelia, that’s preposterous. There’s no way—“

“That I’m capable of heroics? I wouldn’t have believed it either.” Cordelia frowns. 

“I don’t—I won’t believe it.” Her mother crosses her arms in detest. “You can’t make up these lies to try to put me in my place. It’s ludicrous.”

“No, what’s _ludicrous_  is that you wanted to marry some guy right out of graduation. I was barely eighteen!”

“I did that for your own good, Cordelia. I couldn’t let you take on the family business—not after what you’re father’s done to corrupt it. I’d rather have you  _hate_  me and be safe instead of participating in his wayward schemes.”

“Safe with a man like that?! He  _cheated_  on me!” Cordelia’s unresolved rage begins to show face. “Then it becomes  _my_  fault that I won’t proceed to marry him because of some backwards imbeciles? Of course I was going to retaliate, who the hell wouldn’t?!”

“I understand now that I’ve made a hasty choice.” Her mother attempts to calm her down but to no avail.

“A HASTY choice? My, that sounds delightful. The rest of my life was bet on a quick gamble. Wonderful.” Her tone is impeccably dry.

“I’m not sure what else to say, other than I’ve tried my best.” Her mother sighs with little emotion. “Yet your father’s done all the wrong things, and you’ve given him nothing but your devotion.”

“Because he praises me, revers me.” Cordelia stomps her foot down.

“Yes yes, because when your father wants something of you, he’s going to be the nicest man in the world.” A look of disgust flashes across her face before sadness takes its place. “I wanted to go to university, study to become a professor. I didn’t want to be someone’s  _wife_.”

“You can still do that!” Cordelia shouts.

“Not without money, I couldn’t. After I found out I was expecting you …I had no choice but to marry him. He claims it was an accident, but I don’t believe—“ She covers her mouth instantly. “Never mind Cordelia, I didn’t mean—”

No. She couldn’t take it anymore. Cordelia’s eyes flood with tears as her feet carry her away from the study. She couldn’t bear to hear that she was the source of her mother’s terrible life. Or, what she had insisted about her father. She scurries through the hallway, heading up the stairs into her bedroom. She  _prays_  that the Octoling wasn’t there. She flings her door open, freezing at the sight of him. He was wearing a beige dress shirt, a few shades lighter than his natural tanned skin, which she knew he didn’t come in with. He still donned his leather trousers. 

_God, why was he here?!_

His eyes fill with worry as she turns away from him.  <Cordelia, I thought you were done with your tears.>

<Get out.> She says weakly.

<No.>

<You don’t understand!> Her knees buckle, betraying her as she collapses on the floor. She couldn't take it anymore. 

Cordelia feels the Octoling's presence as he leans down, securing his arms around her. A powerful wail escapes her throat as she clings to his shirt. It’s a solid two minutes before Cordelia calms down.

<You cry a lot, you know.> He speaks calmly.

<If you had the life I had, you would too.> She decides he’s allowed to stay.

<Who did this?> His voice raises in volume.

Cordelia can’t explain herself right now. Dammit, she was trying to figure out the best way to go about things. There was no way that she could figure out her deep-rooted emotions in such a short time. Her mother had said many things to her as a kid that was demoralizing, but this? To imply that her aspirations were ruined simply because she had a child was a terrible thing to let on. On top of that, she would never believe her father had forced a baby onto his wife in order to trap her—that just wasn’t him! Or, was it? She didn’t know what to believe anymore. The confusion spirals her into more regretful tears.

<It doesn’t matter.> She says quietly as moisture lines her cheeks.

<Like hell it doesn’t.> She feels him tense.

<There’s nothing you can do about it.> She misses his deep frown as she leans against him. <Why are you still here?>

<I forgot something.> He says nonchalantly. <And now you’re crying into my good shirt.> She stares up at him with furrowed brows, clearly unamused. <I can cancel plans with your father if you want me to stay with you.>

<No.> Cordelia sniffs. She didn’t need any more questions diverted his way, especially after she stupidly admitted to her mother the real reason why she visited. <I need you to carry on as planned.>

<Not until you’ve stopped with your tears.> Boy, that would mean he was going to be here a while—she doesn’t think it possible  _to_  stop. <I’m not leaving you alone.>

He might be the only one on this earth who cared about her so strongly. Not even an hour ago, it scared the life out of her. But now, it brings her reassured comfort she desires.

The Octoling looks at her strongly. <What do you need me to do?>

<Go.> She sniffs.

<I told you, I’m not leaving you alone.> He repeats himself.

<I need you to get along with my Dad, that’s the best thing you can do for me.>

He gives her a distrusting look.  

<I’ll be fine.> She doesn’t allude that she’s sobbed many nights away in this very room, alone. There was no Octoling to comfort her then, and she survived. She remains silent as she listens to his soft heartbeat, quickening with his words. He really was worried about her.

<My mom… She knows that my father’s been up to no good.> She begins softly. She’s not going to go into other details that didn’t pertain to the mission. <She didn’t realize that I already knew.>

<Did you tell her our plan?> He says with apprehension in his voice. <That we’re not engaged?>

<No. But, for what it’s worth, she doesn’t seem to dislike you  _because_  you’re an Octoling, rather, that it’ll help my father bolster his plans.>

<I think she’s right. He wanted to give me a seat on the Board of Directors.> He admits. <I know enough about business to know that’s a high ranking position. He asked me to consider the role, and at the time I didn’t. I was feeling sorry for myself, about not making my own way. But, if I did take the position—the money I could make under his instruction, I could give us a head’s start, and we could give us a real go.>

Cordelia feels her panic resurface when he continues, <He’s already giving us a house.>

<No, that’s not right. He said he was giving you a job—you can’t  _just_  get a spot, you have to be elected in.>

<Last night, he told me he wanted me to be on the board as his son-in-law. He didn’t want me to tell you, it was supposed to be a surprise.>

That brings a sinking feeling to Cordelia’s stomach. So, he was trying to pull the strings not only behind the company’s back, but her own as well.  _God_.  

<But what you said last night about the drones …if you were to take this position, then that’d mean you’d have to back out. You’d be expected to help the Octarians succeed.>

<The drone facility irks me to no end, Cordelia. But, after our talk this morning I realized something. I have everything I need right here.>

<Don’t be ridiculous.> Cordelia scolds him. <You’ve made this your life’s work, and you’re going to abandon it for some idealistic dream my father has promised you?> She stops for a minute. Maybe, just maybe that was her father’s angle all along—to seduce the Octoling into veering his focus. He’d make a killing in salary, which is why the Octoling was considering it in the first place. And, what did the Octoling desire more than Cordelia herself?

The destruction of the drones—or, that’s what she thought until now.

Just  _how_  much did her father know?

<You matter to me more than a place I can’t even call home anymore.> His warm voice soothes her ears.

<I know that, but, if you take the position—rather—if you’re elected in, you do know that it’s going to be suspicious when we don’t set a date for the wedding.> She frowns. <And, if my father finds out that we’ve lied this whole time—I don’t see how this is going to work. We have to stick with the plan, no matter what.>

Complex emotions flash on his face as he thinks about his response. <You’re right.> He lets out a defeated sigh. <Faking an engagement is one thing, but I can’t fake a commitment as important as marriage, not even for you.> 

 Cordelia wouldn’t ask him to go that far. <That’s quite a different tune you’re singing—you told me yourself that you wouldn’t want to date me unless you saw a future for the two of us.> She raises a brow.

<It’s still true, but I want it to be for the right reasons,  _not_  as a way to take your father down.> He says defensively.

“Cordelia?” She hears her mother’s familiar tone near her doorway. Her emerald eyes study the couple on the floor.

Cordelia’s anger reappears with shocking speed. “ _What?”_

Her mother frowns, as her gaze falls to the side. “Can we talk, please?”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” She continues to lean against the Octoling’s chest, not caring that it’s improper. “I’m spending time with my  _fiancé_.”

“Please, Cordelia. I need a word with you.” Her voice wavers, appearing almost desperate for her daughter’s compliance.

Cordelia remains silent as she eases off the ground, leaving the Octoling to follow her lead.

<What’s she saying?> He asks curiously.

<Just a second.> She hushes him, soon focusing on her mother. Her glare is icier than before. “Why? I think we’ve exchanged enough words today.”

“I want to explain myself.” The discomfort in her expression was almost unseen. Did she legitimately feel guilty about what took place in her study? No, that didn’t seem like her mother. To be fair, their discussion was quite heated. Cordelia inwardly sighs. Maybe, just maybe, she should give her undeserving mother a chance to redeem herself.

<Please leave us alone for a bit.> She says to the Octoling. <I can handle her.>

He looks hesitant to do so but he nods, carefully edging the door as he leaves.

<Go.> She waves her hand, which, seems to work.

“He seems …interesting.” Cordelia can tell her mother’s censoring herself as she invites herself into Cordelia’s bedroom. “Are you sure you want to marry someone so possessive?”

“He’s protective, not possessive.” Cordelia corrects her. “I’m sure you’re not here to discuss Radjerd.”

Her mother closes Cordelia’s bedroom door before she sits at the edge of her bed. She briefly examines the sheets with a scowl on her face—her thoughts must be whirling in speculation—but she doesn’t speak her mind. Instead, she begins with, “Cordelia, I don’t want you to think that you weren’t wanted. I wanted a daughter, truly.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Her arms fold as she turns away from the silver haired Inkling.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” Her mother tints her head as her emerald eyes hold shame.

“You could have sent me to University, or, even better, just tell me the truth. You didn’t need to threaten me with homelessness.”

“I know that, and I deeply regret that conversation. But now you need to think critically, Cordelia. You don’t want to drag yourself through the mud with your father’s misdoings. As much as it’s hard to believe, I understand that you’re working with the Agents now.” The crack in her mother’s speech gives away her true emotion. “I don’t want you to take yourself down with us. I wanted—I wanted better for you.”

In her own twisted way, she can see her mother truly believed what she was doing was right. Cordelia briefly lowers her guard.

“Do you think I want to condemn Dad? Of course not! This is really hard for me to come to terms with.” Previous emotion bubbles within her throat. “Of course not! Despite his stupidity, he ensured one of the Octarian Generals whatever he wanted, in exchange for my safety.”

Her mother’s sharp wail makes Cordelia wince. “He bargained your  _life?!_ ” The despair melts through her face, then through the rest of her body.  _“Aleck… you bastard.”_   

Cordelia’s eyes widen in shock. She's never heard her mother swear before. “Mom?!”

“How dare he make it this far—that an Octarian  _general_  threatens your safety?!” Her voice drips with disdain. “I’m going to end that man for exposing you like this. To go as far as to put your own safety at risk—“

“Mom, I said he  _kept_  me safe.” She attempts to console her.

“This ends now.” Her mother stands up, but Cordelia prevents the taller woman from escaping by placing a firm hand on her dainty shoulder.

“Listen to me. I got this under control.” Cordelia speaks with confidence. “Radjerd and I have a plan, and it’s going to work.”

By a miracle, the older woman eases back onto Cordelia’s bed. She remains silent as Cordelia joins her. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve  _Generals_.”

“It doesn’t.” Cordelia smiles wryly.

 “Pray tell, what kind of plan is it then?” She asks with heavy speculation. Man, she must have had little confidence in Cordelia’s abilities. She does her best to stall. Should she tell her mother the truth? It was clear her and her father were not sharing the same allegiances. She would be taking a chance, but it might be her best shot.

“Callie suggested that I pay you a visit with my  _fiancé,_ who …um, isn’t my fiancé.”

“What are you saying?” She raises a brow in confusion. “Cordelia, speak clearly.”

“We’re not  _actually_  engaged.” Cordelia awkwardly grins.  

It takes a bit for that to sink in. Her mother’s face grows in agitation. “And you allowed him into your bed, god Cordelia, what are you thinking?!”

 _That_  was her biggest concern? A red crimson blush crosses her cheeks. “Mom, this is  _not_  the issue here. Keep focused.” She lowers her eyes. “Besides, it’s not he’s just some random guy. We’re …actually dating.” She purposely leaves the part where she’s only known him a week. Her mother would not be impressed to hear that.

“Does he have any intention of marrying you?!” 

“Mom,  _please!_ I’m telling you this  _because_ this was the best way we could visit without suspicion. What better way to introduce an Octoling to the family than feigning an engagement—at least, according to Callie. This was  _not_  my idea.” Cordelia says through gritted teeth.

“I can understand where you’re coming from, but you do realize that now word will spread of your engagement—others will  _expect_  the two of you to marry, if not condemn you first.”

“Come on Mom, there is such a thing as a long-term engagement. Besides, you were very clear that you didn’t want me to marry him. Now it sounds like you want me to.”

“For reasons you should very well understand.” Her familiar tone rises again. “But, there’s no way your father’s going to keep quiet about this—especially considering who he’s working with.” She shakes her head. “You can’t shirk an engagement for the  _second_  time, Cordelia. You know tongues will be wagging the minute this surfaces.”

“The let tongues wag.” Cordelia sighs. 

“Cordelia—you do realize your father has every intention to host the wedding here? Why do you think your father is inviting him out,  _alone?”_

 _Oh god._  “You’re not serious!”

She rubs her hand against her brow. “Cordelia,  _this_  is what your hasty thinking gets you into.”

“I told you, this was Callie’s idea.” She frowns.   

“Hmm… Maybe we can make this work in our favour.” Her mother’s humming was never a good sign. “I’m going to propose an idea that will please your father and the public, but you have to listen.” She begins. “Stay here a couple of weeks, and we’ll follow your father’s plan to get married here. I’ll throw the engagement party, and your father will not be the wiser. Once he  _thinks_  your Octoling is a part of the family, there’s a high chance that he’ll involve him in on his secrets. If you confront him yourself Cordelia, I…I don’t know what he’ll do. This is the safest option.”

“Hold up!” Cordelia raises her hand in the air. “No, and no. I’m not marrying him. Radjerd and I already agreed that we’re not going to let things go that far. Why not just get you to gather the proof—I mean, you’re his wife!”

“He doesn’t know that I know.” She frowns. “I can’t do a bloody thing.”

“Wait—he didn’t tell you? How did you find out?”

“I’d rather not say…” Her mother’s on the verge of tears. “I’ll tell you in due time, but  _please_  don’t make me say it now.”

Whatever it was, it must have been bad. Cordelia isn’t sure she wants to press—she can’t handle any more bad news.

“But why do I have to put marriage on the line!?” Cordelia stresses. “He’s not going to do it.”

“Relax. I’ll get my lawyer to draft up a contract that will create a loophole. I’m not sure what as of yet, but she’ll know what to do. This way, the own ace is on neither of you. And I raised you well enough Cordelia, I’m sure you can get him to do your bidding.” God, when her mother wanted something done, she really didn’t hold back.

“Wait, one thing. Why do you have a lawyer who knows how to flub contracts?”

“I…” She breathes a lawn drawn sigh. “I hired her the minute I found out that your  _fiancé_ was an Octoling. I was going to find some way to annul your marriage to him to save you both from your father.” Shame laces her voice. “I didn’t think you could listen to reason.”

“You’re damn lucky I’m not getting married to Radjerd, or I would hate your guts.”

“Cordelia, there was no way I was going to sit by and do nothing—no—you know what, think it over. I suggest we go with my plan if you want to gain your father’s trust. He’ll dance around the topic with you otherwise, and if it’s proof we need, this is the best way to get it.”

“This is a weighty thing you’re just thrusting onto my shoulders.” Also, the woman was giving Cordelia emotional whiplash. “Besides, I’ll need to talk to Radjerd—it’s not something he’ll agree to.”

“Oh, he better.” Her mother scowls. “This is what I’ve been saying Cordelia—no man will want to buy the cow if he can get the milk for free.”

“Mom!” Cordelia flushes.

“Meanwhile, I’m going to find a way to stall your father. I’m not letting him make any more thoughtless moves, especially when it concerns you.”

“How?”

“Never mind that, Cordelia. Just focus on what you need to do—find a way to get your Octoling on board.”

The only good thing about her mother’s proposal was that she’d have enough time to sneak around the home for evidence—and, perhaps her father’s study. With her mother’s help, she could gather all the information she needed to convince him to step down—but did there  _really_  need to be a fake wedding? Cordelia groans. There had to be another way.

 

Lunch had come as soon as it went. It had been just been her mother and her, as the Octoling and her father were out exploring the trails behind Diamond Lake Estates. Cordelia’s mind is chewing on the plan that her mother had presented. It was the  _easiest_  way to go about things, and it would  _save_  her reputation to have an annulment embedded into her contract, but why go through all the effort to begin with? At this point, the tabloids could say what they will about her—she was most worried about her father’s stance in the Octarian war—he could go to jail! Was marriage to the Octoling really the only way to expose his secrets? She groans heavily. Even if it was fake, it would just complicate things further than they already were.

Cordelia makes her way back to her room, her body feeling overwhelmingly heavy. She hears the front door open, noticing her father’s voice immediately. Cordelia turns to look at him—grimacing when her stomach churns. What other secrets could he be hiding behind that smile of his? Not even two seconds later, she sees the Octoling steps in behind him, dressed in a beige vest and a black t-shirt, with matching beige shorts. The two looked like they went fishing, not for a hike. His violet eyes lock onto her when he notices Cordelia halfway up the stairwell. Cordelia can’t fight the warmness she feels within her chest when she smiles back. Instantly, he parades up the stairs to join her.

His smile quickly fades as he pulls her arm. <We need to go to your room, now.>

<Hey, don’t pull on me!> He doesn’t listen as he drags her off to her bedroom. <My parents will not approve of this!> But, did Cordelia really care at this point. No—no she didn’t.

<Cordelia, your dad…>

<What about him?> She says as she closes the door. The number of conversations concerning her father was starting to get tiresome. Hell, her room was starting to become way too familiar.

<Your dad wants us to get married, here! He doesn’t see why we should wait any longer.>

So her mother was right… Dammit.

<Marriage isn’t something that we should fake, Cordelia.> He lowers his brows. <I was willing to look past the engagement, but marriage…that’s too far.>

<I know that, but…> Cordelia carefully repeats the plan her mother came up with, which causes the Octoling to groan in annoyance.

<Does she really believe that I’ll just  _accept_  an annulment? If I’m up on that altar, it’s because I want to marry you, not because I’m feeding into some  _plan_. >

<I get that it’s not ideal, trust me.> Cordelia pulls a frown. She didn’t like the idea any more than he did.

<Judging by your tone, you think we should do it...> He says with much hesitation.

<I don’t know.> She sighs, leaning against the wall.

<I don’t want to—not like this.> He crosses his arms as he frowns. <I’d love to know  _why_  she thinks it’d be dangerous to confront him now.>

<She’s banking that he’ll tell you everything once you’re legally a part of the family. You’d be a witness.>

Both remain silent for a while until Cordelia gets an idea.

<I’ll talk to my dad, let him know you’re uncomfortable getting married so soon. I’m sure he’ll understand where I’m coming from.

<Cordelia, I told him that I was okay with it, as long as you were—because I  _knew_  you wouldn't be.>

<Then I’ll let him know that it’s too soon for me.> A brief feeling of confidence washes through her—there might be a way out of this.

She’ll talk to him this afternoon.


	27. Chapter 27

_He has to listen to reason._

_There’s no way he expects me to get married this soon._

_Would he force me in a position like this for his own personal gain?_

Cordelia’s thoughts plague her mind as she walks down the wide corridor. She fiddles with her phone in her pocket—not the secure line, but her personal one. While not necessary for her upcoming endeavours, it felt nice to have it by her side.  

She heads in the direction of the patio—her father's favourite place in the manor. Nerves creep into her being—this mission wasn’t supposed to get personal. It was supposed to be easy, confront her father and blackmail him into submission. It ate at her that her father was at fault—despite what her mother had said, Cordelia wanted to keep him blameless. But now, family politics force her hand. 

Her palm sweats against the curved door handle. Her heart pounds against her chest.

This was it.

Cordelia opens the door carefully to prevent it from creaking. There he was, donned in sunshades and a light airy buttoned-up shirt. He lowers his shades when he notices his daughter’s presence, a smile graces his lips.

“Cordelia!” He says joyfully as he lays his book on his lap. “I thought you’d be off with your fiancé. The weather is great and it’s a wonderful day for a walk—or—did I tire out the lad? I did warn him the trails would tucker him out, but he reassured me he was capable.” He adds, “From what I witnessed, he was very eager to see you.”

“No, he wasn’t tired. He was excited about the adventure, couldn’t wait to tell me about it.” Cordelia drags a deck chair into the shade. Her pale complexion couldn’t take on the sun’s rays without protection. “But, I didn’t visit for that reason. I was hoping we could talk.”

“Yes, it’d be nice to chat with my girl. It’s been so rush-rush since you arrived, I feel like I hardly had time to talk to you around all of this hustle and bustle.” His warm smile makes her gut churn again. Presented before her was the kind and caring father she always knew. Sure, he had his moments of questionability, but who didn’t? Her mother wouldn’t have any good reason to lie, right? “Are you feeling any better? I’ve noticed that you looked a little worse for wear since you arrived.”

“Oh, well …I’ve been a little sick.” It’s not a lie—she had been feeling rather off—but that was due to the overwhelming amount of stress she was put under.

His concerned blue eyes survey her. “Do we need to send for the doctor?”

“No, it’s okay. It’s nothing serious—just nerves is all.”

“Oh, dear girl. How long has this lasted?” His voice is soft, caring. It messes with her mind.

“About a week. No longer than that, I promise.” Despite how she felt about current events, she didn’t like the idea of her father worrying about her. 

“Ah, around the time the lad proposed. That’d do it.” He chuckles. “Remember what I told you,  _worrying is a misuse of your imagination_. He seems like a wonderful fellow _._ ”

Her father’s signature quote. She didn’t expect him to use it here. “Yeah, about that.” She braces herself momentarily. “Radjerd told me something.” She might as well get straight to it. “He said that you’d like to host the wedding  _here_. Is that true?”

“You don’t like the idea?” He cocks his head to the side for a brief two seconds. “We can do it somewhere else if you’d prefer.”

“No, I think the manor would be great—we have a wonderful beach spot that would be perfect for the ceremony.” Dammit, what was she saying—no—she was stalling. Her natural impulsion to please her father was kicking in. This was the time where she needed to fight against it. “What I meant to say is, I don’t want to rush into things you know? I only got engaged a couple of days ago.”  

Cordelia waits for the confrontation. When he smiles, she’s thrown off. “Cold feet, eh?”

“Of course I would this soon. Don’t you think it’d be nice to wait a bit?" 

He nods. “I understand. Not everyone’s ready to take a leap of faith.”

Cordelia’s surprised. She hadn’t expected her father to understand so quickly. “I just want to make sure he’s the right fit for me, you know?”

“Cordelia?” His tone shifts. “I might have had my suspicions at first, but I wanted to give the lad a chance. I don’t think it’s easy for any father to give his little girl to another. With that said, I think he’s the real deal—a diamond in the rough, as it were.” His warm grin makes her believe that he’s not lying. She had to give it to the Octoling—he could be quite the charmer when he wanted to be. “I would have never considered this unless I thought he was good enough for you. He might need to learn some Inklish, but if that’s my only concern, I think you found yourself a wonderful partner.”  

Cordelia’s stomach churns aggressively. “I-I just don’t feel ready, you know?”

“Hmm.” He says aloud as he taps on the cover of his book. “What are your reservations?”

“Well, I know Octolings like to rush into things, and it’s not exactly something I’m comfortable with. We had a rather  _swift_  courtship and one thing lead to another rather quickly.” She took the line straight from Noralyn’s mouth—but she wouldn’t have had to, it was the truth. She and the Octoling had done everything  _backwards_. “I’d just like to slow down for a bit and get used to the thought of being engaged first, it’s not something I feel we should do right now.” She almost winces when she catches a glimpse of her father’s disappointment. It’s brief, but she noticed. 

“You sound just like your mother.” He laughs wholeheartedly, switching the tone of the conversation. “She felt it was too soon when I proposed to her.” Remembering what her mother had said, Cordelia tries not to cringe, but her gut feels it. "Marrying your mother was one of the best decisions I ever made, and if you lower your mother’s defences, I’m sure she would agree—but she required a bit of persuading to say yes—well worth the effort if you ask me.” His wink deeply unsettles her.

“So what did you do?” Cordelia asks with hesitation. She heard her mother’s version; it was time to hear her father’s.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but you were the reason we decided to marry as soon as we did. I knew you were going to be my second chance at happiness, Cordelia.” His smile seems sincere, as his eyes moisten. “I might have been too hasty in convincing your mother to have my hand, but, I don’t regret it for a minute.” He leans forward as he secures his hand over Cordelia’s. “You’re the best gift I could have ever received.”

Cordelia nods, allowing her father’s hand to rest on her own. Her mind is stuck on  _second chance_. What the hell did that mean?

“I understand that you and Radjerd aren’t in the same boat as your mother and I were—the two of you have all the time in the world to enjoy each other’s company without restraints. Today’s a different world than what it was twenty years ago.” He pulls his hand away as he breathes in. “Cordelia, my only fear is, is that you’re going to keep this poor lad waiting and waiting, and soon, he’ll grow tired and move on. I promise you that it might be a bit scary now, but it will be worth it. From the way he spoke about you, you’re the love of his life.”

Her eyes widen instantly. What exactly did he say to her father to warrant that impression? No, she doesn’t want to know. It’ll just bring back those nasty butterflies— _Dammit Cordelia, focus!_

“Dad, I get what you’re saying but Radjerd, he agrees with me. It’s too soon.”

“What is it with you young women and fear of commitment? I’m not arranging things right this moment.” His warm grin does not reassure her. “But I know for a fact your lad is interested in you. He agreed that the sooner the wedding takes place, the faster he can be a part of this family. Isn’t that what you want?”

Didn't he hear what Cordelia had just said? She told him that the Octoling  _agreed_  with her! However, it didn't seem to matter. Here he was, attempting to coerce her into a marriage that he  _knew_  she wasn’t ready for.  _God._  This is the first time she saw for her own eyes—the charmer her mother claimed him to be. She fights the lump in her throat, her eyes immediately moisten. No. Now isn’t the time to cry.

“What’s the matter?”

“Sorry, um…” She briefly pauses. She had no choice but to agree, or things might become more than suspicious. She had to keep things simple. She says with a heavy heart, “…Yes, it’s something I want.”

“I thought so. Your mother had a change of heart and has decided to plan your engagement party—she is all for this union. It’s a bloody miracle if you ask me.” He laughs, sensing the discomfort in the air. “And, there’s another reason I wish to disclose with you. The sooner he marries into our family, the better it’ll be for his future. I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you, but I think it’s something you understand, yes?”

Cordelia instinctively wants to narrow her eyes, but she holds back. Who was it better for—the Octoling, or winning favour with the Octarians?

She speaks quietly, “I do.”

“I was hoping within the next couple of weeks we could host the wedding.” A couple of weeks was what her mother had warned, so she expected that answer. The Octoling was going to kill her. “Your mother told me she’d like to plan the engagement party in three days." 

“Won’t that seem suspicious—me announcing my engagement and having my wedding so soon after?”

“You don’t know how quick your mother and I had to marry, then. It was less time, and we didn’t have time for a formal announcement—although our situation was a little more time-sensitive than yours is.” 

Sensing Cordelia's disapproval, he swiftly switches the subject, “Should you tell your mother, or shall I?”

“You can tell her." Cordelia frowns. 

“Splendid.” He beams. “Was there anything else you wished to discuss?”

“No, that was it.” Her uncertainty returns.

“Perfect.” He smiles as he opens his book. “I won’t keep you then.”

Cordelia takes that as her cue to leave. She feels the heat as she steps inside the manor. She decides to keep her distance—she needed a moment to think. Instead of fretting over her father’s shady character, she decides to distract herself with idle daydreams as she walks past the stairwell. She didn’t have the luxury to look upset—not since the help was present. She offers a small grin to one of the housekeepers as she walks by, making her way to the upstairs attic area. It was her favourite play area as a child and was still decorated as such. No one went up there except her—and, the Octoling wouldn’t be able to find her. It was the perfect place to consider what had happened with her father.

Cordelia climbs up the steep stairwell and into the attic. The mousy blue walls were covered in cobwebs—this room was hardly used. Specks of dust line the sunlit room, a nostalgic pang emanates through her. She sits in a small blue chair, facing the window. It had a spacious view of the U shaped driveway; the sun's rays capture the glimmer of the fountain’s waters. She leans against the chair and takes a deep breath, allowing her first thought to come through. She didn’t have the luxury to cry anymore.

She agreed to a wedding at the manor,  _without_  the Octoling’s permission. Brief nausea resurfaces; this would be the first time where she truly disappointed him. What would that mean for their mission?

No—what did that mean for  _them?_

Sure, he was sulky, playful, and downright cheeky with her since the beginning—maybe even brutish considering their earlier encounters. He’s never been angry with her—that would change when she gave him the update. She’d be kidding herself if she didn’t acknowledge that she took to the Octoling right away. He had captured her interest, and he knew it. It was the fastest that she’s taken to another in her entire life—if she had to get married to someone at this moment, it would have been him.

Even though they’ve known each other for nine days.

_Nine friggin’ days._

Cordelia sighs. Her father’s words were getting to her. The way he spoke, it was like the law itself was speaking. When he approved of her actions, life was grand. Yet, she went along with what he wanted, and, she felt miserable. She curses herself when her eyes begin to water. She didn’t want to lose the Octoling. Despite the whirlwind of events that happened, he was there for her, taking her side. A complete stranger cared for her more than her own relatives seemed to. Life became less lonely now that he was in it—she didn’t want that to change. Cordelia covers her cheeks with her hands as her gut swirls with elation. If the last few days were an indication of how the rest of her life could be. At this moment, she wants to abandon this silly mission. Take her father’s offer and live in a house by the beach, bothered by nothing than the morning cries of seagulls.

_Good god!_

Cordelia  _just_ had a panic attack this morning when she and the Octoling had made things official. Now she was daydreaming about married life? She escapes the walls of her attic, cursing it for the vile tricks it was playing upon her mind. She needed to keep her distance—from her mother, her father, and especially, the Octoling.

 

Morning befalls Cordelia as she stirs from her slumber. Yesterday, she had done her best to keep her distance—her constitution was acting up again—she refused dinner. She wasn’t so sick that she couldn’t eat, but wasn’t ready to face the three people that she was trying to avoid. Not that it made any difference. The Octoling had come upstairs to check on her, but she shooed him away, embellishing that she was unwell. What was surprising was that her mother came to check up on her too, lamenting how Octarian did not have the kindest sounding dialect. It seemed that the Octoling had attempted communication with her. She doesn’t remember much else—she passed out within minutes after her mother had left the room. To be fair, she needed the rest. The last two days were insane—no, scratch that—the last  _week_  was astronomically intense. It was nice to lie in bed for a moment, a peaceful reprieve before she remembered.

Then, it hits her.

She knows exactly why her father wants her to marry the Octoling. The impending war was  _against_  the Octarians, and if he wanted to secure favour  _before_  things turned to shit, he had to do it now. God, how didn’t she see this before? Securing the Octoling within her family would protect him against the law, should they wish to cast out the remaining Octoling residents—his newfound Firthe status would keep him safe.

She rushes to the secure line and dials the Agents post-haste. She  _prays_  that Marie doesn’t pick up the phone.

“Corlie—erm—Agent 4. How’s the mission going?”

There’s no mistaking it—that’s Callie. She breathes a sigh of relief. “Apparently my mother knew what my father was up to this entire time. She’s not in on it, but she’s helping us dig up some dirt on him.”

“Oh, wow. Are they working together, or...?”

“No, he has no idea that my mother’s aware of his Octarian partnerships. I didn’t tell her about the rainmaker blueprints—she was already in a mess when I told her I was Agent 4.”  

“Oh no. How did that go?”

“It turned out alright, believe it or not. She didn’t ask me too many questions—I don’t think she wants to dig, for fear it might reveal more than what she cares to know.” Cordelia adds, “She even chose to omit the fact that she asked Marie specifically to look out for me.”

“I’m not surprised by your mother feigning ignorance…” Callie sighs. “I can't imagine what it must be like for you.” The concern in Callie’s voice is touching. 

“It's not so bad.” Cordelia lies. "Just another day as an Agent." 

"I guess." She changes the subject. “How’s the  _engagement_  going—did they believe you?”

“Yeah… about that.” Cordelia prepares herself. “My father wants us to get married at the homestead, within the next couple of weeks.”

“Oh my god, are you serious?" 

“It's likely that my father wants to secure the Octoling within our family before tensions rise.” Cordelia takes a deep breath. “Which, since you were the one who concocted this  _brilliant_  cover, I have to ask. Do you think it’s going too far to fake a marriage?” She already told her father she would do it, but if Callie advised against it, she’d find another way—if that was even a possibility. 

“What, get married to someone you only just met? I mean, that’s how it goes in fairy tales.”

Cordelia didn’t appreciate her ill-timed humour.

“I don’t know. It would help get closer to your father, and what he has hidden away in that business of his, but… it also means you’re going to have a lot of PR work after the two of you split up.”

“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter.” Cordelia sighs. “My dad made it pretty clear that he wants me to, and, I already told him I would...”  

“You  _are_  engaged to him, so yeah, if you didn’t want to marry him—that’d be pretty damn suspicious.”

“I know the Octoling’s not going to like it—he already shared his disdain prior. I don’t know how I can convince him.” Convincing him to do something he didn’t want to do—that was going to be tough. The thought of an engagement party was bad enough, but to top it off with a wedding?  _God…_

“Tell him that it’s paramount. You’re locked in at any rate, and putting on a show will be your best chance in gaining your father's trust."

“No, I don’t want him exposed—I just want him to back out of this Octarian mess before it’s too late.”

Callie’s tone grows soft. “I understand.”

A long pause hangs between the two before Callie interrupts, “Oh, right! I have some good news. Marina is fine, she’s appeared safe with her family—her kid is adorable by the way! We’re currently questioning her about anything she might have seen, and, we’ve given them a safe house for the meantime. Unfortunately, there is no sign of Pearl. Agent 2 said she might try to find her if nothing comes up. Poor Marina’s beside herself.”

Cordelia was relieved to hear about Marina, but Pearl’s disappearance was troubling. Yet, one question lingered in her mind. “Did Marina mention  _why_ she thought her family was in danger?”

“She said it was because she received a transmission about the war—and to prepare for a long haul. It scared her—not because of the message, but that they’d still radio her, to begin with. So she brought her family here.”

“The Octoling told me he was instructed to collect Marina—but if they could have radioed her this entire time, it was clearly a setup.”

“Why would they try to set him up?”

“Otis told me that the Octoling was more of a hindrance than a help to their operations. It was possible that they just sent him on a suicide mission to rid of him.” Cordelia says with a heavy frown. She would keep this to herself—there was no reason why the Octoling should hear her speculation. “Speaking of which, you might want to get in contact with Otis. I got a text from his wife that he’s back home again. He might be able to help you find Pearl.” She doesn’t know for sure, but Otis was the one who assured Cordelia— _don’t underestimate Pearl._ Cordelia’s eyes widen when she realizes that she didn’t respond to Noralyn’s message.

“I’ll call him shortly.”

Cordelia sighs. “I wish I could help look for her, but instead I have to play house with my parents.”

“You’re  _playing_ house for a reason, Agent 4. Both Agent 2 and I understand that. It’s why we didn’t initially call, but I’d feel bad if I didn’t share what I knew. You deserved to know that Marina turned up safe.” Callie adds, "Please call me if there’s anything I can help you with, okay?”

“Of course.” Cordelia nods, despite Callie not being able to see it. “No more drone sightings though, right?”

“None that were reported, no.” Callie shares. “I do have to let you go, talk to you soon, and good luck.”  

“Yep, you too.”

Cordelia hangs up the phone, feeling frustrated. She should be out with Marie, not playing house with her family. 

She takes great care when she freshens herself up, putting on a floral print dress. She favoured this one, as it slimmed her in all the right areas. She’d need her game face on. Now, to face the Octoling.

Cordelia slips on some flat white shoes before she leaves her room. She doesn't bother making her bed—this was her little act of rebellion.

The Octoling’s room was upstairs to the right—where the guest rooms were situated. Of course, her mother would have put him on the opposite side of the manor. She approaches the door at the end of the hall to see that it’s cracked open. Cordelia announces her arrival before swinging the door open to reveal an empty room. It doesn’t seem like he even slept in his bed. She turns around—maybe her father snatched him up this morning before she got the chance to. After letting out a brief huff, Cordelia fast walks down the stairs to her mother’s study. By chance, maybe she knew where he was.  

She stops when she hears two familiar voices beyond the study’s white-framed door. She’s able to hear both languages sounding quite irritated with each other. Oh god! She whips the door open and stares at the Octoling sitting across from her mother. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and the shorts from yesterday. She  _hates_ that the sleeves show off his well-toned arms.  _Not the time, Cordelia!_

“Cordelia, please close your mouth, And stop looking at me like I have five heads.” Her look reflects Cordelia’s confusion. “Or, are you wondering how your Octoling found me and attempted to drag my arm fifty feet across the house?”  

<You did what to my mother?!> Cordelia exclaims. 

<I needed help.> He glares back. <I found this dictionary in your room and thought I could use it.> He’s referring to the Octarian to Inklish dictionary in his hands.

“It wasn’t that much of a scare. He was only attempting to learn our tongue.” Her mother’s smile slightly relieves the green haired Inkling. “A bit brutish at first, but I’m sure he meant well.”

“Are you helping him?”

“Not exactly, I think he wants to tell me something—but for the life of me, I don’t know what. He’s trying, which I appreciate greatly, but I can’t understand him. Can you translate?”

“I can.” She pulls up a chair and sits next to the Octoling. <What are you trying to tell her?>

He says bluntly, <To stop making you cry.>

Cordelia flushes. <I’m glad that she didn’t understand you!> She says hotly. <Or else I’d have to do more damage control than I already have to.>

“Cordelia, don’t be rude. Please translate.” Her mother's voice interrupts. 

“I don’t think you want to know.” 

Her mother’s emerald green eyes almost roll from her head. “Well, then give me the  _clean_  version.”  

God. Cordelia didn’t expect her mother to concede. “Well, he doesn’t like that my family is making me upset.”

She crosses her arms. “I see, and I assume I’m the villain in this scenario?”

“No, I never told him anything.” She doesn’t want to admit her tears to her mother. That never boded well for her in the past. “He assumes that both you and my father are the source of my spells.”

“I thought you were over that, Cordelia.” Her mother shakes her head. “The doctor assured me you were rid of it.“

“It’s been a stressful week, alright? Just give me a break.”

Her mother pauses before changing her focus. “I suppose it’s a good thing your Octoling chased me down. With your help, maybe I can talk some sense into him.”

“What kind of sense?” she asks.

“Your father told me the two of you spoke about …you know.” It was interesting to see her mother’s conflicted emotions. “The wedding. He believes that he’s upset you, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.” Her mother leans forward on her desk. “Have you thought about what I had suggested?”

“I have.” Cordelia begins, knowing full well that the Octoling was beside her. “Didn't Dad tell you?”

“He said that you agreed to marry, but I chose to withhold my belief until I heard you speak about it." 

"I see." 

"And your Octoling, he decided to agree?”

“I was hoping the two of us could talk about it by ourselves for a bit. I never got the chance to ask him." 

Her mother deeply sighs. “Alright, I’ll refill my tea.” She takes her leave, although it will only be brief.

<Why is she leaving?> The Octoling questions out loud.

<Because I asked her to. There’s something I need to talk to you about.> She develops the courage to say what she has to say next. <I know you said that you didn’t want to do this.>

He frowns instantly, immediately understanding what she’s talking about.

<My father’s not giving me much leeway. I don’t know what else to do.>

<I know he isn’t. He mentioned to me last night that he was scared that he put you off marrying me entirely. I thought you were upset about that—it’s why I went to check up on you, but you didn’t seem in the mood to chat.> His frown lightens. <He asked me what I thought.>

<And?> She tenses in apprehension.

<It looks like this marriage thing might be our best bet.> He sighs in resignation. <You already told your father you would, after all…> His glare does not go unnoticed. 

<I’m sorry, but he had me. I didn’t know what else to say, he didn’t seem to be taking no for an answer.>

<This is some mess we got ourselves into.> He shakes his head. <This wasn't what I wanted to do.>

She feels her throat tighten as her eyes water.  _Dammit, Cordelia…not now!_  To her horror, he notices.

<I said I would do it, there’s no need to be upset.>

<It’s not that…> Her voice breaks. <You shouldn’t have to. Not for me. You’ve done more than enough to help me out, and I fear that this might be the breaking point for you.> It’s too late; tears slide down her face. His warm hand gently wipes them away; concern laces his expression.

<Are your tears something I’ll have to deal with on an everyday basis?> He asks with a hint of concern.

A blush lines her cheeks as she mumbles out a  _no,_ although, she’s not sure if that’s an accurate response. <It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose.>

He nods. <I’m starting to see why you’re as stressed as you are. Even when they are kind, your family seem to be quite overbearing. I should really tell them off.>

His reply forces her to smile. <You should.> She lightly sniffs as she holds his hand.

<But, I do have one request.> He starts, <Whatever we have to do in public, I don’t want it affecting what we have  _now_. It’s why I was so heavily against this marriage idea in the first place—one wrong move, and you might want nothing to do with me. And don’t say you wouldn’t, you’ve denied your feelings for quite some time. >

<I know.> She bites her lip. <I’m sorry.> Every single word he said about taking their relationship seriously, he was doing right here—right now. She didn’t want that to stop—ever. <I just don’t know how to convey my feelings properly.>

<You’re easy enough to read, so that’s not the problem. It’s your constant need to cover them up with a lie that bothers me.>

<Well maybe if you weren’t so pushy—> She pauses, allowing her temper to cease before continuing. <What I mean to say, is that you wanted to move so fast and I wasn’t ready for it.>

He raises his voice in frustration. <And  _this_  is the reason I didn’t want to stage a marriage! You barked at me for moving too fast, and now you have to pretend that you’re excited to be my wife because of some bogus plan your Agents thought up. Do you think I  _want_  that?!>

Cordelia turns away, begging the powers that be to hold back her tears—she didn't want them to resurface. He was pissed, and it was all her fault.

<Hey, I’m sorry.> He stands up from his seat as he walks over to Cordelia’s chair. It’s too late; her cheeks are steaming with the tears that dared to escape the confines of her lids. <I get that this isn’t your doing. I don’t want you to spend time with me because of some plan. It’s why I asked you to date me in the first place.>

<You have a right to be angry you know.> She sniffs.

<I’m not angry though. Frustrated, but if this is what it takes, then we’ll get through this. Just promise me one thing.>

<And that is?>

<Give me a chance. I promise I’ll be good to you.>

<I’m giving you a chance right now.> She sniffs again. <It’s why I agreed to date you.>

<You’re right. You’re doing the best you can. I should be thankful for that much.>

A pang of guilt shoots through her gut. The Octoling didn’t believe that she was earnest with her choice. To his credit, she wasn’t. But, he was right about one thing, she was doing the best she could.

<Can I kiss you?>

<You never asked before.> Cordelia says flatly, despite her surprise. <If you want to, sure.>

<That doesn’t sound very convincing.> He furrows his brows.

<I never minded before!> She says hotly. He takes her answer as a yes as he leans in, propping her up on her feet before his lips overlap hers. He’s gentle, allowing Cordelia to melt into his embrace. She props her feet upward to properly reach him—his height plays at a disadvantage. He seems to get the hint as he lifts her up, whisking her to the couch by the window.

<You know my mother’s due back at any time, right?> Cordelia warns him.

<You assume the worst of me.>

<Your track record isn’t the most …appropriate.> She can’t finish her sentence without a crimson blush lining her cheeks.

It’s a good thing she stalled him, for when she hears the door open; a pair of horrified green eyes stare at her.

“Radjerd was just showing me that he could lift me across the room.” Cordelia was never good at improvising. She encourages the Octoling to let her go.

“I can see that.” She raises a single silver brow. “Was the driveway not long enough to show off his strength?”

“Anyways, I talked to him. He agreed to marry me—erm—fake marry me. You know.” Cordelia’s still flushed from her mother’s intrusion. “Why don’t we get back to it." 

“My sentiments exactly.” She grips the handle of her teacup to prevent it from wobbling, easing into her plush office chair.

Cordelia encourages the Octoling to take his seat. She soon follows, opening with, “I tried to talk my way out of the marriage idea, but Dad would rather see me married than happy it seems. Never thought I’d see the day.” She frowns heavily. Her mother appears to catch the reference almost immediately.

“Cordelia,” She begins, but the green haired Inkling isn’t shy to cut her off.

“That doesn’t matter now, what is it that you want us to do?”

“Well…” She pauses as she studies the Octoling. “He needs to learn Inklish if he’s to make an impression. Care to teach him, or shall I hire a tutor?”

“I’ll teach him.” Cordelia takes up the task. It wouldn’t hurt him to learn the language—and—it was what her father wanted. 

"Wonderful." She takes a sip of her tea. “Your father's already summarized a guest list. He's inviting some of Inkopolis' renowned politicians." 

“Not Westley or his girlfriend,  _please_.” Cordelia pleads. That man could go to hell as far as she was concerned.

“Don’t worry—your father doesn’t think that little of you. He’s not on the guest list. Besides, I believe she’s his  _wife_  now.” Her mother leaves no detail untouched, does she…? “Is there anyone your Octoling would like to invite? It’d be quite suspicious if he chose not to invite at least one member of his family.”

She turns to him. <My mother asked if you’d like to invite anyone to the—um— _wedding_. > She manages to say while withholding a blush.

<I haven’t had contact with my parents in years, and as far as I’m concerned, my sister can go to hell.> Yikes. She didn’t even know he had any siblings to speak of. Judging by his response, that was probably intentional. Cordelia wants him to invite Freydis, but she knows the unlikeability of that. She was trapped under the General’s thumb—they couldn’t ask her for good reason.

“He doesn’t have any contacts personally, but I do know of a couple that we recently met. Their names are Noralyn, Otis—who is also an Octoling, and their son Landon.” Which reminds her. She completely flubbed on Noralyn’s text message. She reassures herself that the orange haired Inkling hardly noticed the message—she was likely busy with mom stuff.

“We’ll invite them to the wedding as your Octoling’s guests, should they accept.” Her mother’s emerald eyes linger on her steel blue ones. “Don’t tell  _anyone_  this is an act. Every guest invited has to believe the legitimacy of this union.”

“Please call him Radjerd, Mom. He’s not  _my_  Octoling.”

“Well for the next couple of weeks, he is.” She replies haughtily. “Speculation will be on you two the minute this is announced. If you want this plan to work, you have to be on your best behaviour.”

“Obviously.” Cordelia narrows her eyes. “I know how it works.”

“See that you do. Meanwhile, I’m going to tell your father to add these names to the list." She taps the top of her head briefly, a sign that she had a couple of things on her mind. "We can invite your friends to the engagement party—which begs the question, have your clothing sizes changed much? You don’t look to be any bigger.”

“I’m not, and yes, my old clothes still fit.”

“I’ll get a tailor in tomorrow to fit you and … _Radjerd_  for clothes. If this is to be believed, we need to go all out.”

That was one thing her mother knew how to do—and well. Hosting gatherings was her calling. If she had to work for a living, Cordelia always imagined her to be a party planner. She’d be so damn good at it. “I assume you’ll leave the wedding to me as well?”

“Yeah, sure.” Cordelia shrugs. “As long as you don’t put me in some frilly gown.”

<I hate all of this Inkling gibberish. Can't understand a damn thing.> The Octoling mutters under his breath. Cordelia ignores him. She'll update him once the conversation was finished. 

“Excellent. And, we’ll have to do something about that  _obscene colour of green_.” She fiddles with the phone she takes out of her pocket. “I’ll order some colour-stripper, and I expect you use it once it arrives. You have a beautiful buttermilk shade, Cordelia. You ought to show it off."

She’s about to protest but figures it’s smarter not to. She’s right—Cordelia had to look like a Firthe, especially since she was supposed to act as one. Besides, the minute she’s out of camera’s reach, she can dye it right back.

“Anyways, I’m afraid I’ve strayed too far off topic. I want to plan a dinner with your father—away from the manor. I’m hoping we can do it in the next couple of days.”

“Yeah, and?” Cordelia’s not sure where her mother’s going with this.

“Don’t be rude.” She scolds. “I need you to enter his study—if there’s anything incriminating in there, I’m sure you’ll find it.” Her tone implies that Cordelia had snuck around his study before—while not necessarily true, she did have a curious nature as a pre-teen. “I’ll see if I can leave his key in the plant pot next to his door. You know the one, right?”

“I do.” She nods.

Cordelia closes her eyes.

This was going to be her toughest mission yet.


	28. Chapter 28

Thank god that’s over with.

Cordelia wasn’t pleased with dress fittings—especially with tailors that seemed to have no patience with her body. They draped a soft blue fabric over her minimally clothed frame. Her mother had always preferred Cordelia in blue—said it paired excellently with her brilliant buttermilk shade. Cordelia was never good at standing still, feeling a sudden urge to jerk and move about. And when those pins reached her skin,  _god,_  it hurt! She’ll never forgive that man for being so careless—her dress better be phenomenal. If it was any less than perfect, all her torture would have been for nothing. Cordelia had asked the Octoling how the fitting went, and for him, it went seamlessly. She wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a pun or not, but she ignored it nonetheless. It was absolutely not fair that she had to deal with the incompetence of her mother’s tailors. But no, with the Octoling, they had nothing but the gentlest of hands.

It was hard to believe the last two days flew by as fast as they did. It’s been a whirlwind of preparation for her engagement party—the list, the outfits, the decorations—and most importantly, the announcements. Cordelia had hardly seen her mother since they had talked about Cordelia’s plan to infiltrate the study. Meanwhile, her father was edging in some much needed father-daughter time with idle chitchat about days gone by, and his sudden urge to escort her to the courtyard. He lamented his behaviour from before, and sorrowfully regretted not inviting Cordelia back home sooner. What was touching was, he probably meant all of that. She might have forgiven him if it weren’t for his Octarian treachery.

Cordelia snaps back to reality, as the Octoling waves a hand in front of her face. The two sat on the corner of her bed, as his violet eyes appear narrower. Was he glaring at her? Why?

<Was I right?> The Octoling refers to their current tutor session—as promised, she took up the mantle and decided to teach him basic Inklish.

<Could you repeat that again?> Cordelia snaps back to, and this time, she’s one hundred percent focused …mostly.

He grunts, seemingly annoyed.  _“Good-bye, all.”_

<You mean,  _‘Good-bye. Bye’_  works, too.>

<But why would you not say ‘ _all’_? What if I’m addressing everyone in the room and they get mad because I didn’t say farewell to all of them? >

<It’s not the same thing.> Cordelia shakes her head. <When you say, ‘Good-bye’ to one or more, it’s assumed that you’re saying farewell to everyone in the room.> She was terrible at this. They should have hired a proper tutor to help him speak Inklish.

<Makes no sense.> His mumble isn’t lost on her. <Can I just say it my way?>

<You can, but you’re the one who’s worried about making an impression.> She folds her arms. <You wanted proper, I’m giving you proper.>

The Octoling’s stare grows intense as he focuses on Cordelia’s knees. They gently move upward until they meet hers. <I have an idea.>

<And what’s that?> She doesn’t like the sound of his tone.

<We could make this a little more interesting.> His finger gently grazes her thigh. Her gut pangs with excitement.  _Not now!_  She scolds herself privately.

<Yeah, and you’ll learn nothing.> She raises a brow.

<I liked the green, but your buttermilk colour suits you much more. I can’t take my eyes off of you.>

<You said the same thing this morning.> She hotly replies. Of course he’s referring to her natural shad—the colour-stripper took no time in cleansing her of her green head of hair. To be honest, she hadn’t looked in the mirror since—her natural shade brought back memories she would rather not revisit.

<It makes me wonder what this  _new_  Cordelia tastes like.> His purr is unmistakable. It’s a challenge to deny him when he leans in closer, his lips parting ever so slightly.

<W-We’re in the middle of a lesson.> She stutters, barely managing to keep her composure. She was doing just fine until he started pulling  _this_.  <If you pay attention, then  _maybe_  you’ll get your wish.>

<Or, I get to unfasten that lacy garment you’re wearing.> She swears his lips moisten at his suggestion.

<This is  _not_  what I agreed to.> She knows he can read her blush. It wasn’t like she was against his proposal, but honestly? They only had a day to get the Octoling on track—their engagement party was tomorrow.

He pulls at the loose string around her waist, ignoring her statement. The fabric ungracefully bunches around her waist. <Stop! You’re not supposed to pull at those!> She slaps his hand.

<Then how do I take it off?> His frown deepens.

<You  _don’t_. > She attempts to repair the damage he had done, fastening the laces to their original state. <What happened to a simple kiss?>

<A kiss? That’s cute.> His tone drips of longing. <Three days have gone by since I got a proper taste of you.>

<Now’s not the time for that.> She bats him off, her face as red as a bloody tomato. He’s not the one she doesn’t trust. <I have a job to do, and so do you.>

<A job that I’m feeling is more effort than it’s worth.> He sighs. God, he was being a shit on purpose?

<You were fine until you developed other ideas.> It’s her turn to narrow her eyes. She sighs, knowing that she would eventually indulge him, so why not give him an  _incentive_  to stay on track? A simple kiss would do. <Fine, but you get one kiss—on the  _lips! >_

He scoops her up into his lap, unable to follow the simplest of directions. He buries his face into the nape of her neck, his warm lips burn against her skin. The pang returns as she melts into the feverish trail making its way to her earlobe. His warm hand slips beneath her dress, resting on her waist.

<I told you.> She gasps as he teases the sensitive spot on her neck. <One simple kiss.>

Her breathless words force him to grin. <When have I ever agreed to that?> His amusement tickles her ears. <You’re too delectable for one simple kiss,  _My Cordelia_. >

<I’m not _your Cordelia. > _She protests his answer, but then she remembers—they  _are_  dating. No—that didn’t mean shit. She’s not his, or  _anyone’s_. She shudders against him. God—she might debate her answer if he continues kissing that spot.

<Are you  _sure?_ > His laugh vibrates against her skin. <Because you’re in my arms right now—and like hell I’m letting you go.>

She couldn’t say no to that—their lesson was quite dull. Besides, this was what engaged couples were  _supposed_  to be doing, right?

<Fine.> It sounds sterner than she meant it to. His other hand grabs the zipper on her dress, the fabric parts ways—a cool draft is felt against the bareness of her skin. The Octoling is right—three days was a long time. He spins her on her back as he breathlessly stares at her, before impatiently tugging at her dress.

He wants it off.

Her laugh escapes her as he quizzically scans the area, searching for the source of her amusement. His brows furrow intensely as a sharp, loud bang is heard from the other side of the wall. Cordelia turns her head to investigate—was that one of their housekeepers?

<No.> He places a hand on her chest. <You’re staying here.>

A furious knock on her door prevents her from obeying his order. She gently pushes him off, ignoring the sulk present on his face. <Zip me up.> She whispers.

He does as he’s told, grumbling in that incoherent speech of his. Cordelia opens the door as the knock surfaces again. She didn’t expect her mother’s emerald eyes to stare back at her.

“Don’t look so flustered, it’s only your mother who was almost  _backhanded_  by a broomstick.” She nudges Cordelia out of the way, inviting herself in. “Yes, I hear the same excuse time and again— _I’m new, I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again—_ beyond infuriating if you ask me.” She sits on the vanity chair, briefly glancing in the Octoling’s direction. Her eyes scan him up and down.

Cordelia braces herself for the worst. 

“I assume you’ve taught him the Inklish alphabet at least.” She folds her arms. Her voice is calm,  _measured_.

“Mom, I don’t think now’s the time to address that.” Her face burns. This was humiliating.

“Cordelia, at this point it doesn’t matter. God knows who you were flinging about with out of my sight, so I should be thankful this one  _seems_  respectable enough.”

From her mother,  _that_  was a compliment. She approved of him.

“You should be careful if you want to keep him around, not make yourself  _too_  available.” She stares at him with a critical eye.

“Like you’re one to talk.” Cordelia too folds her arms.

“Excuse me, young lady, your father did the honourable thing and married me.”  She fixes up her bun, as she feigns a strand being out of place. “I will not be so kind should you use that against me a second time.”

Cordelia bites her lip. That was a little insensitive, even if her mother was acting like a hypocrite.

“I didn’t come to discuss our marriage politics. I came to remind you that your father and I are going out to dinner—I told him it was a way to celebrate our milestone as parents.”

Cordelia understands that her mother needed a reason, but why that? Why not just a romantic outing? She questions the same to her mother.

“Despite what it may look like, I do care for my husband deeply. I only do this to save him, and most importantly, you, from ruin.” She’s surprised to see tears lace her eyes. “He’s had enough struggles to deal with in his lifetime, there’s no need to hide it from his family.” Cordelia never thought to question her mother’s feelings—it was safe to assume she didn’t have any. “Regardless, I’m sure you’ll discover something new. Since he’s on vacation, I’m positive he would have brought some paperwork home—that man never truly leaves work where it should be.”

“Did you put the spare key in the pot?” Cordelia does her fest to stay focused.

“I did.” She stands up, straightening her simple green dress. It lacked frills, but the design was sharp—just like her mother. “Remember, he’s likely to have compartments hidden about the room, so use a critical eye. If anything comes up, call me.” She pats her purse. “I am bringing my phone along.”

“Sounds good.” Cordelia nods as she walks her mother out. “I’ll do what I can.”

 “And please study downstairs where  _someone_  can see you. You don’t want whispers amongst the crowd.” Not this again, especially when she seemed okay with them remaining alone five minutes ago.

Cordelia shows off her ring as a reminder. “We’re engaged, remember?”

“Right, and remind me to get you a better ring before tomorrow. The one you’re wearing simply won’t do.”

The Octoling speaks a “Good-bye” in his best Inklish accent, surprising the silver haired Inkling. She turns, as a ghost of a smile appears on her lips. “Good-bye to you, Radjerd.” She speaks before departing.

<Nice work!> Cordelia exclaims. <You were pretty on point.>

<I can’t imagine it sounds worse than your accent.> His grin is wide. Wait, he thought  _her_  accent was bad? <Now, come over here. I wasn’t finished with you.>

<Change of plans.> Cordelia shakes her head. Whatever mood she was in had dissipated when her mother burst through the door. <I have to prepare myself.>

The Octoling groans in frustration. <You’re killing me.>

<You’ll live.> She rolls her eyes. <Now straighten yourself up and follow me downstairs. We’ve got work to do.>

 

Cordelia curses her mother as her fingers rummage through the soil.  _Where was that damn key?_  Did her father move it somewhere different? God, she doesn’t know—this looked plain stupid. If anyone saw her rummaging through a plant pot, she’d definitely be called out for suspicious activity. If the Octoling did his job in distracting the help, she wouldn’t need luck. She’d have all the time in the world.

A cool sensation trickles her fingers—good, she found it. Cordelia pulls the key from the soil and shakes her hand to rid it of the leftover soil. Instantly, her palms become clammy as she walks to the nearby door. She takes a deep breath—whatever was in the room before her, she could not come back from. This was her chance to compile the information she needed to back her father into a corner—if she was lucky, it would be enough to convince him to stop. Or, was that just wishful thinking on her part?

No. She didn’t have time for such thoughts. She sticks the key into the lock as she wiggles it around a bit, taking a sharp breath as she unlocks the door.

Inside is an organized array of books stacked atop a fireplace. A library spans the wall behind his desk, tucked in alphabetical order. The last time she came in her father’s study was as a young teenager, before she was shipped to  _Punctshoal School for the Proper Heiress_. She can recall the fireplace being lit, and her father looking quite stern as he shared with the young Inkling her fate; it would be good for her, he promised. It would bring her out of her shell. Likewise, the first year of her education did nothing but force her to be a shut-in. Cordelia never took well to being told what to do, and that was likely the reason she was sent to that horrid place. She stops herself before she gets too wound up—there was no reason to think about that place…

Not anymore.

Cordelia closes the door behind her, aiming for her father’s desk. It was the most obvious of places to have his papers, but the wooden finished drawers were a great place to start. She tugs at the handle—shit, it’s locked. Of course it was locked—no one leaves their secret documents out in the open! Cordelia investigates the letter opener by the pile of unopened letters—she didn’t bother searching through his mail—he wouldn’t be so obvious about his dealings with the Octarians. Cordelia briefly glances up to see her own face staring at her—her portrait was positioned right where her father could see it. Hung on the wall, next to the door. It was her graduation portrait. She was dressed in a white laced gown—her hair tied back in a bow. Her face was placid and proper, just the way her mother had wanted it. This time, the painter didn’t have to cover for any tantrums, but, she did look rather bored. Her father had mentioned that he put the portrait in his study, because, seeing the face of his darling daughter kept him honest. It was funny just how ironic that statement was. 

She stares at her portrait for a minute—Cordelia couldn’t believe she was that same girl from two years ago. She seemed so …unhappy.

Cordelia shakes her head, freeing herself from her thoughts. She goes back to her investigation, grabbing the letter opener. If she had to jam it into the lock, she would. Lucky for her, all she had to do was slip it into the crevice of the drawer door and wiggle it around a bit to prop it open. Excitedly, she rummages through the paperwork. Bills, contract deals, and investment reports for shareholders. Nothing she cared about. She decides to investigate the rest of the cabinets using the same method. Still, the same papers from before. This was growing tiresome.

There was no way she could cover up her mess—there had to be something she could use against him to make up for it.

The bookshelf catches Cordelia’s eye—one particular cover of a young Inkling holding a giant green plush squid.  _My Squid _____ was the title, the blank space was meant for the owner of the book to fill in the name of the squid. It was her father’s book as a child, but he had erased his own name for the squid so Cordelia could put her own in. She scrawled some name on the title, but this book didn’t have it. She named her squid Petalsweet because the watercolours reminded her of flower petals as a child. The art was superb for children’s literature. Even her five-year-old self could recognize it. Out of nostalgia, she reaches for the book and smiles as she opens the cover. A peculiar note catches her eye, seemingly confused when she sees her father’s handwriting, outlining a strange name.

 _Fitzpatrick “Firthe”_.

Who the hell was Fitzpatrick?

There was some child’s scrawl underneath, but she couldn’t make out what it said.

Cordelia flips through the pages, seeing if any clues lay beyond the pages. To her surprise, nothing. Maybe Fitzpatrick was the name her parents would have chosen for her if she was born a male. That’d make the most sense. But then, why would her father not correct it to  _Cordelia_? As she places the book on the ledge, she notices a tear in the spine. She lines her fingers alongside the edge and pulls out a thin metal key—what the heck was a key doing in a book spine—unless, that very key was hiding the information that she herself desired. Cordelia’s gut jumps in delight. She just may have found the very thing that would help her with her investigation.

Cordelia debates where this tiny key would fit. She didn’t come across any strange boxes or hidden compartments in her father’s desk, so there had to be a place for this. But, why hide a key in a children’s book? In the movies, obscure keys always had hidden locks behind portraits, but Cordelia stalls. No, that was too easy. Despite her logic advising against it, Cordelia decides to gently lift her wall portrait by the frame, peeking underneath. She almost squeals when she discovers that there is a small wooden drawer underneath the portrait. She leans the painting against the back of her head as she fiddles with the key—bingo. It clicks, letting her know she has succeeded.

A singular file housed with paper documents greets her upon discovery. Her father went to creative lengths to keep these documents hidden, so there must be a reason for it. Cordelia grabs the file and plops it on his desk. Within this file potentially laid her father’s most deep and darkest secrets. The minute she opens it, there was no turning back. She takes a deep breath, wincing as she peels back the paper file cover.   

What stares back at her was the last thing she’d have ever expected to see  

A picture of an Octoling woman, with deep green eyes and soft blue hair smiles at the viewer, alongside a …much younger version of her father? She picks up the photo and stares at it intensely. She flips it around to check if the picture had any indication as to who this Octoling was. Cordelia reads,  _Melody_. Was that her name? It must have been. The print seemed to match her father’s handwriting.

She places the photo down beside the rest of the paperwork as she sifts through the file for some much-needed answers. What appears to be a copy of an official certificate draws her attention, making her ignore the rest of the documents. It read:

_Name: Fitzpatrick Chalmers._

_Sex: Male._

_Species: Inkling._

_Father Unknown._

This was a birth certificate.

Cordelia hungrily scans the document for information. Whoever this baby was, he was born ten years before her. Cordelia slams the paper down on the desk when she grabs the book again, opening to the line where the name was duplicated. Cordelia’s heart races as she scans the lines.

No.

She won’t believe it.

This wasn’t her book. That’s why she didn’t recognize the scrawl underneath her father’s handwriting

It belonged to Fitzpatrick.

Tears lace her eyes as she closes the cover—this...this was inconceivable. Her head explodes in dizziness as her stomach drops. God, not this again. She didn’t have the luxury of another panic attack. She grips the desk to brace herself as she fights back her urge to scream.

Her gut was telling her—no— _screaming_ at her that this Fitzpatrick was a close family member. So close in fact, that her father ironically kept his documents  _behind_  her portrait.

This was the last straw.

Cordelia scrunches her hands into fists as she grits her teeth together. Tears spill from her eyes, splashing onto the aforementioned documents, staining the corner of its pages.

She  _refused_  to believe this could be a potential sibling.

There was no way her mother would hide this from her.

Cordelia slides the file off of his desk in a rage, the contents spill onto the floor. She didn’t care. She was done trying to help him. He was a liar, a cheat, a criminal. And now, a deadbeat.

She hated him.

She hated him so much.

There was no coming back from this.  _Ever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a gorgeous piece of art from Spicy_Mika who I met through the fic, and a kindhearted person to boot! Check out her beautiful fanart [here!](https://spicymika.tumblr.com/post/175928940590/look-at-this-owo-nvm-i-guess)
> 
> The thing that I am most grateful for, is that this fic introduced me to amazing and talented individuals who are so kindhearted and so much fun to chat with. Seriously, I've deeply enjoyed getting to meet each and every one of you like my god, I love you all so much and it's just like insane how great you all are. Thank you so much for joining this adventure with me! 
> 
> ~Rose


	29. Chapter 29

“Cordelia, I can explain.”

Her father’s calm tone signifies he  _believes_  to have control over the situation. He’s sorrowfully mistaken. She had never seen both her parents in disarray before this moment. Cordelia had demanded her parents return home immediately. She waited in her father’s study, purposely sitting in his chair. He didn’t deserve this seat—he didn’t deserve any of this. Her eyes deeply narrow at the man who stands across from her. He eyes the scattered papers on the floor, with a pained expression on his face. Her mother looks equally as sorrowful, which also proves her guilt. She  _knew_  about this and decided not to tell her.  _Despicable._   

“Oh,  _can_  you now?” She firmly crosses her arms. “Yeah, I’m sure you can come up with some kind of excuse.” She deeply hopes that he does—that he denies her allegations—that this is a deep misunderstanding on her part. She  _yearns_  for that response. Instead, she hears:

“It’s a long story, but I assure you there is a good reason that—“

Her eyes moisten immediately. He wasn’t going to deny it. “—That I have a brother?”

 _“Half-brother.”_  Her mother adds. “This might not be any consolation to you Cordelia, but I didn’t know about him until last year.”

Cordelia doesn’t miss the glare that is meant for her father. It’s cold,  _icy_. Under any other circumstance, Cordelia would want to know _how_  her mother found out, or, what her mother had done to get him to admit his folly. But, she didn’t care. She didn’t give two shits about her mother’s stories.

“You knew all this time, yet couldn’t even tell me, your own daughter, that your  _husband_  had a child with another woman?” Her voice shakes. “You didn’t think that was something I should  _know?!”_

“Because we were in no position to be riling you up. Especially considering how unruly you were back then.” Her voice grows quieter as she speaks, as if she’s aware her choice of words weren’t the greatest.

“Riled up? Oh, yeah, you  _bet._ ” Cordelia hisses. “You think I was  _riled up_  back then? You’ve seen nothing yet.”  

“I get that you’re angry, and you have every right to be.” Her father begins. “It was such a messy situation and I can't even begin to share my regrets.”

“Oh, yeah—that’s supposed to make me feel better? That you’re some deadbeat of a father who’s abandoned his own son?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” His voice sounds defeated. “Your grandfather made me stop seeing him when you were born.”

“No, no way. You’re not pinning this on me.” She growls. “You didn’t have to listen to him, you could have stood up for your own flesh and blood. You don’t get to stand there and tell me that Grandfather  _chose_  me over your firstborn. That doesn’t make any sense.”

Cordelia can see the resolve melt away from the older man’s face.

“No, it wasn’t like that. He was …illegitimate, and you… I still had time to marry your mother, but there were stipulations.” God, just how much were they hiding from her?! Cordelia couldn’t take much more of this. “Do you think I  _wanted_  to? I didn’t have a choice, Cordelia. If it were up to me, I would have chosen the  _both_ of you."  

It was horrible that he had decided to choose in the first place. She couldn’t imagine the anger that the boy must have felt. Judging by what she had read on his birth certificate, he would have been ten years old when he had found out that he wouldn’t be able to see his father again. That thought fills her with anger.

“I can’t believe that you’d abandon your own son because your father told you to.” She spits out. “No one should ever have to endure such a fate.”

“It’s not what I wanted to do.” Both his hands curl into fists. “But I had to, for the future of our company. He was considered a bastard, Cordelia. There wasn’t anything I could have done to make him legitimate unless I married his mother, which …back then, I couldn’t have. Even if I wanted to."

“And why was that, exactly?”

“Because she was an Octoling.” He winces. “Back then, tensions were still high between our races, but despite all of that, we hired some as  _help_  around the home. I …liked her, and she liked me back. And, when you’re that age, sometimes, you do things that you  _really shouldn’t do_.”

Cordelia should have been shocked to hear that her half-brother had an Octoling mother, yet, that was the least of her concerns.

“So you fucked a member of your staff,  _great_  to hear, Dad!” And here she was getting flack from her parents—she wasn’t the one who got herself into trouble, unlike both of her parents had. God, they were such fucking hypocrites! “Did you just  _dump_  her after you found out about the kid?”

“I didn’t know about him until  _months_  after he was born. Emelda just  _disappeared_  from my life  _because_  she was carrying my child. I was only your age when all of this had taken place. I didn’t know what to do? I didn’t even know!”  

Emelda …was that the Octoling woman that she saw in the picture? No, _Melody_ was... Then what was the connection? Cordelia has to remind herself, one thing at a time. She'd get to the bottom of that later.  

“She just left—like that?” Cordelia didn’t believe it. “Doubtful.”

“I learned later on that your grandfather paid her off, which I understand why she took the money. It was more than a generous offer—despite how heartbroken I was.”

“You didn’t even attempt to make things right and marry her?”

“I would have if I could… As I mentioned before, it was impossible for me to go up against my father.” He frowns heavily. “I knew nothing other than my family business …it was better that she raise the boy on the money he had given her. It was a sizable allowance.”

Cordelia falls silent for a moment to collect her thoughts. None of this sat well with her.

“You said you visited him.” Cordelia crosses her arms. “How could you visit him for ten years and then just stop?!”

“It was the hardest thing I ever had to do to the lad, Cordelia. But, I had your mother to consider—and you too. I had to atone for the past, and make things right for your mother and I. So we could be a family.”

“No, it was likely that you tricked Mom into having me just to cover up your mistakes.”

Her mother’s emerald eyes vibrate in anger. “Cordelia, that’s  _enough!”_  A sharp pain whips across her cheek, her mother’s gloved hand trembles afterward. Her father gasps, admitting his disapproval of his wife’s actions. She ignores him. “I don’t care  _what_  took place thirty-odd years ago—that gives you  _no_  right to drag your father or me through the mud consistently.”

Cordelia rubs her cheek in silence as her brows deeply furrow. She can’t believe that her mother is defending this man. It was utterly despicable.

“Funny how that’s the exact thing you did to me, forcing me into engagement when I was barely out of the schoolroom.” She growls under her breath. “Then throw me out of the house after I didn’t commit to a cheating asshole.”

Her mother winces as she withdraws her hand. She turns away in what appears to be a look of shame—something Cordelia had never seen before.

“I understand we weren’t the best to you, but I beg you, hear me out, my darling girl.” Her father takes a few steps forward. “I know I didn’t do the best job during the Westley situation, and if I could change how I reacted, I would have. I sorrowfully regret that moment, and I wished I hadn’t had pressured you to do it.”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” Cordelia spits out. “You just sat there and let Mom throw me out like I was yesterday’s garbage. As far as I’m concerned, I should have blamed you too. But, I foolishly believed that you cared, but did you call me? No, only on my birthday and some holidays. You didn’t even visit.”

“I know Cordelia, and I’m deeply sorry for that. I didn’t know how to approach you, and I wasn’t sure if you’d have it in your heart to forgive me.”

“Dad, I would have! If you even  _tried_ , I could have easily forgiven you!” She feels her eyes moisten as she speaks. “But you preferred Mom’s opinion over your own daughter’s.” She doesn’t see her mother’s sorrowful expression.

“I know I did, and that was a mistake.” Her father concedes.

“You don’t even get to talk about  _mistakes!_ ” Cordelia’s beyond herself. “It sounds like a stupid excuse that you keep using over and over!”

Her father sighs. “Can we talk about all of this in the morning? I feel with a good night’s sleep you and I could come to a conclusion, but now I can see that you’re stressed out—and rightfully so.”

Oh, she wasn’t going to let her father escape so easily. Screw the plan, she was going to hit them  _both_ where she knew it would hurt. Cordelia gives her mother a knowing look as she speaks, “I  _know_  you’ve been working for the Octarians.” 

Her mother’s eyes widen with horror.

Her father’s pupils dilate as his mouth hangs open. “Where did you hear that?” His voice wavers between panic and confusion.

“Oh  _come on Dad,_  I’m Agent 4 for fuck’s sake!” She slams her hand on her desk. “You didn’t think I would find out about any of this?! Just how stupid do you think I am.”

“Cordelia, it’s not what you think.”

“And what do you assume I think, that you’re a traitor to all Inkling kind? No, it gets a bit better than that—I had the Octarian General tell me himself that he was unable to hurt me, due to your  _bargain_ , whatever that’s supposed to mean!?” Her father pales. “Yeah, he would have killed me if it weren’t for that little arrangement, just so you know.”

“Cordelia, you m-met him?!” He stutters. “And what do you mean he would have killed you. He knows  _exactly_  who you are!”

Her father’s concern is lost on her. “Yes, I met your  _friend_.” Her deadpan tone gives no indication of sympathy. “Seems rather annoyed that he couldn’t off me himself. And don’t act surprised, I can easily see why he wanted to kill me, considering I’m an Agent.”

“I never thought you’d let things get this out of hand.” Her mother mutters. His mouth gapes, as he raises his finger to speak. “Save it, Aleck, I knew about this for years.” She mutters. “You aren’t so good at being  _covert_.”

Looking at the two with great confusion, her father takes two steps back, lowering his head. “Regarding Fitz, and the Octarians…” His voice is quiet. “I don’t expect the two of you to understand my reasoning, but know that my actions would never put the two of you in danger. You are my family, and family means everything to me.”

“Except for when it doesn’t.” Cordelia whispers under her breath, turning away from her parents.

“Cordelia,  _please_. I don’t expect you to understand everything, not after this shock. Your engagement party is tomorrow, why you don’t focus on that instead—“

Cordelia laughs almost maniacally, she doesn’t even try to stop herself. “You honestly think after all of this I’m going through with an  _Engagement party?_  You’re out of your mind.”

His eyes widen in confusion as he braces his hands in front of him. “Cordelia, don’t let the lad pay for my mistakes.”

“Dad, it was a ruse. A ploy! We’re not engaged, heck, we only started dating a couple of days ago!” Her laugh continues, hitting uncomfortable pitches. If she were sane at this moment, she would have admitted that she lost her mind.

“What?” He says in disbelief. “But… that doesn’t make any sense? Why would you lie to me about something so meaningful?” She can tell he’s genuinely hurt by her answer—not that she cares. He deserved all the misery that came to him …lying bastard. Now he knows the truth, and he can revel in it.

“To get you to admit your wrongdoings—to convince you to back out of your shady Octarian military dealings—to prevent you from building mini rainmakers for  _god knows what_  purpose!” She throws her hands in the air. “Why else would I go through this trouble—I’m Agent 4! My job is to protect Inkopolis from any threat, even if that threat is you.”

“Mini  _what?!”_ Her mother gasps. “Aleck, you were making  _weapons_  for them?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. It wasn’t for the war—but for their own developmental sport.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re lying now.” Cordelia crosses her arms. “It’s obvious that you’re trying to back your way out of this conversation because you know the deep shit that you’re trouncing through. I say I’d feel bad for you, but you fucking deserve it after everything you’ve put me through.”

Her father slumps his shoulders as he covers his hand over his face. “I’m trying to write the wrongs I’ve caused over the years. If our military forces attack the Octarians, they’ll be defenceless. That means your brother would be without a home.”

“And whose fault is that?”  Her tone is cold, calculative.

Her father’s lip curves; she’s struck a nerve. Good. “You’re being unreasonable now, Cordelia.”

“Am I? Oh, I haven’t even started.” She turns to her mother. “So, are you going to be the one who reigns in your husband, or should I?"

Her mother disgustedly turns away. She can tell the silver haired Inkling wants to raise her voice, but she doesn’t. It’s obvious that Cordelia was in the right.

“Please, you don’t even know the whole story.” He attempts one last time to reason with her and she knows it.  

“I don’t need to.” She glowers. “All I know is that you’ve lied to me, twice. You know what? If you want to side with the Octarians in this war, then fine. Do it. See if I care. Get arrested, court-martialed,  _whatever_  they do to state traitors nowadays.” She throws her hands up in the air as she reaches for the door. “I’m leaving,  _tonight_.” Cordelia opens the door and slams it behind her.

She was done.


	30. Chapter 30

<Where are you going?>

The Octoling hurries down the stairs after Cordelia. Her bag is tightly secured around her arm as she fastens her pace. The last thing she wanted to do was explain herself to anyone—especially someone who didn’t need to be dragged into her mess. God knows he’s sacrificed enough to help her, he didn’t need to be at the tail end of her wrath. She hadn’t expected to say what she did to her parents, but, now wasn’t the time for self-reflection, despite her parents deserving every word she had said. Both had been terrible, and her father was the liar she had feared him to be. Staying here would be a mistake—she would take one of the vehicles and leave. If she delayed any longer, the two might decide to run after her, using any trick they could to try to get her to stay. She grabs a key from the key ring and slams open the main door. The cool summer air brings temporary relief to her hot cheeks. She’s so mad, she’s positive that even a snowstorm couldn’t cool her down. She’s surprised to feel a bead of sweat run caressing her face—had she been  _that_  warm?

<What happened in there?> The Octoling’s voice is slightly raised, <I could hear yelling, screaming, and I swear I heard  _other things_. > He pulls the collar of his shirt out of discomfort. <Are you okay?>

She stops when she hits the freshly cut grass, taking a deep breath before attempting to speak.  _Be calm, Cordelia_.   <What do you  _think_ , Octoling?!> Dammit, so much for keeping her temper under control.

His disapproval looks strong, but he puts his complaint aside. <I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you. I’m trying to understand what's going on.>

Cordelia’s silent for only a few seconds before she’s knee deep in her fury. She stomps away from the garage and towards the beachfront. The Octoling does his best to keep up with her—she sure walks fast when she’s ticked.  

Cordelia stops when she hits the sand, her heels sink into the sandy grains. She can feel the Octoling’s hand on her shoulder not even moments later. She doesn’t shrug it off, but, it doesn’t help her mood either. She turns around to face him, taking a deep breath. Her neck cranes up; she forgets how  _tall_  he really is.

His brows are furrowed as he looks down. <Cordelia, please, tell me what happened?>

<No. There’s no point.> Her steel blue eyes drift away from him as her arms cross. <There’s no point rehashing it all.>

<Why not? Maybe I can help.>

<It’s none of your concern, really.> She closes her eyes momentarily. <I’d like to add that you’re free from your duty—we don’t have to get married anymore.>

The Octoling’s mouth hangs open as he raises a strong brow. <What do you mean,  _relieved_  of my duty?> His voice drips with concern. < _What did you do? >_

<I told my parents that the wedding’s off.> Shy wryly smiles. <You can thank me later.>

<When did this happen?> His shock genuinely surprises her.

<I thought you’d be happy about it. It means no more false marriage, which you told me yourself that you didn’t want to do in the first place. I know you agreed because my father was an ass about it, but hey.> She shrugs. <Now you don’t have to deal with this anymore. That should make you happy, right?>

<Happy?> He asks almost incredulously as he steps back. <I agreed to this  _because_  it would help us get closer to our mission, because, we didn’t have any other  _choice_. Your father was forcing you into an inescapable corner—I agreed to this so you would be safe! You said that he’d grow suspicious if we denied him the opportunity to host our wedding! >

<There’s no point, I told him about the plan.> The Octoling’s eyes grow wider with each spoken word. <He seemed surprised, but mostly tried to cover his tracks—just like I thought he would.>

She doesn’t expect the Octoling to look this frazzled. <Are you out of your mind?! Cordelia! Do you realize what this could mean for you—for  _me?! > _ 

<What, I already suspected that he knew I was Agent 4.>

<You said so yourself that you were worried about what your father might do to you if he found out about the mission.> He growls in irritation. <Why did you blow our cover?!>

<That’s none of your business.> She says with annoyance.

<Of course it is!> He turns away in frustration. <Did you think about the repercussions that it might have for me?!>

<Oh come on, what stakes do you have in this?> Cordelia balks. <You’re not even an Elite anymore, like, what is it that my father could possibly  _do_  with you? You should be relieved that you’re not a threat.> His eyes flash with shock as his lips part. Cordelia hardy notices the impact of her words.

<You can’t be serious! Do you realize that once your father realized I’m  _that_ Radjerd who got exiled from Octo Canyon, that I could become some pawn in a much bigger scheme?>

<What would they want with you?> Cordelia shrugs. <As you said, you’re exiled. It’s not he’s going to take you hostage and bargain for your life, it’s not worth anything to them—>

She stops when she sees the anger pour from his curled lips. The hurt in his eyes may not have been noticeable before, but now, she could see his violet eyes literally  _vibrating_ from his skull.

<I know my life isn’t worth much—I’m not an entitled brat who’s having a fight with their doting  _father_. > His tone drips with disdain. <Maybe my net worth isn’t as high as yours, Cordelia, but damn do I know I’m loyal to those I care about, despite how others might portray their worth.> He frowns heavily—she swears she can see his eyes water. <I thought that you had issues showing emotion because of your upbringing—but maybe it was just wishful thinking.>

Cordelia internally hisses—that hurt. <Why are you being so dramatic?> She scoffs indignantly. <You’re acting like I'm the one who did something wrong.>

<Did you ever think for just one second that with your father’s help, you know, he could  _actually_  give me protection?>

<Protection against what?> She raises a brow.

<From my own people—you know, the ones who don’t see much value in me?> He spits out in disgust. <It would have been a way to keep an eye on them, especially since he would have let me in on his plan—thanks to your wedding idea. Yes, it freaked me out at first, but I realized it could help me get back home and finish what I set out to do. Your father could have even helped me disarm the Testing Facility—god, Cordelia! If you let me talk to you at all, I could have explained myself  _before_ you decided to ruin everything!>

<You had plenty of time to talk to me about this.> She purses her lips. <Don’t try to blame me for something I didn’t even know about.>

<That’s not the point.> He sighs. <Not that you ever ask me what I want to do.>

<I did, about the wedding,  _remember?_ >

<Not exactly, but I can’t blame you for that particular instance… your father didn’t give you much of a choice.>

<Well, you’re free to do as you please.> Cordelia crosses her arms.

The Octoling frowns when Cordelia turns from him. <Are you seriously going to say that after  _everything_  you’ve told me? What could I possibly do now that you’ve upset your father?>

<Look, if you have unfinished business with the Octarians, I’m not going to tell you to stop because of me. I said I’d help, but after what I did, I doubt that the Agents would want to help me—now that I put a potential target on their backs.> Realization sets in as Cordelia speaks those words

<No, that’s not what I’m talking about. You’re ready to discard me so easily, after  _everything_? I have put my life out on the line for you! >

<How exactly? The last thing I remember, you’re the one who dragged me down to the depths of Slimeskin Garrison to blow up a research facility—which, was a complete waste of time might I add—because the facility is  _still_  standing and now you’re a walking target. Freydis was right, you are too reckless for your own good.>

He covers his face with one hand as he growls. <That was cold, even coming from you.>

Cordelia grimaces. He was right—this was ridiculous. There was no point playing verbal fisticuffs with the Octoling. She ought to apologize and fast before things get too ugly. <Look, I’m sorry that I screwed up your plans with my father, but as I said—>

<No, that’s not the problem here. I’ve done everything that you asked of me, and here you are, ready to leave me here just as you made a mess of things. You honestly think your father is going to forgive me for lying to him? You don’t think that you know—he might arrest me? He might not be able to do anything to you, but now, I’m exposed. I’m a traitor to my homeland!> His voice raises to an uncomfortable volume. <You are literally my future, Cordelia. If you abandon me here, I’m as good as dead!>

She rolls her eyes. Now he was just being theatrical. <Oh come on, I never said I was going to abandon you. Despite what happened in the study I know my father likes you. If you wait until things blow over and you can go about your business as usual.>

<You really don’t get it.> He shakes his head.

<Get what? Stop being cryptic.> Annoyance laces her words.

<I said I was serious about you. That means I’d never leave you behind—not even for a second. It scares me that you were so quick to suggest—you know what—never mind. You’re right about one thing, I do jump into things too quickly.> His voice breaks as he speaks the following words, <I didn’t realize you thought so little of me.>

Cordelia remains silent as shock erupts in her chest. Those sounded like parting words… No, he wasn’t going to  _leave_ , was he?

<You won’t even tell me why you derailed our mission …who am I kidding, you were never going to tell me to begin with.>

<Hey, that’s not fair!> She speaks back.

<What’s not fair is that you’re not telling me what’s bothering you!>

<I don’t have to tell you a bloody thing.  We’ve only known each other for eleven full days—I don’t owe you shit!>

He puts his hand up to prevent her from speaking. <Just tell me the truth. Do you see this working, or am I just clinging on to idle fancies?>

She places her hands on her hips. He was  _not_  going to start pinning things on her back.  _There was no fucking way she was going to deal with his mood on top of everything else_. If he wanted to leave, who was she to stop him?  <If you’re looking for an out, don’t let me hold you back.>

<I don’t want an out, Cordelia! God, what is it that you don’t understand about that!> His voice reaches a level that makes her wince. <Yes it’s been eleven days, and yes, even with you digging into me like that, I still can’t bear the thought of a life without you. If I had any sense,  _I’d leave you right now. >_

Cordelia flinches. Her gut pummels downward as tears lace her eyes. God no, this wasn’t what she wanted at all! What the hell was she doing?!

<I’m sorry—>

<I don’t want to hear it, Cordelia, you had your chance… You’ve made it very clear to me where you stand.> He walks back to the grassy patch lining the driveway. She follows, fearing that he might take off on her.

<Radjerd,  _please! > _She doesn’t care that she used his first name. <I didn’t mean that I…I was pissed off and I know it’s not your fault. I’ll explain everything.> She reaches for him but he sharply turns away from her.

<I refuse to be a punching bag—I’ve dealt with that enough in my lifetime.> His voice is wretched with emotion. <If that’s what you want, be with someone else.>

Cordelia is wretched with shock. N-no, he couldn’t be… She was going to be sick.

<I need some time to myself.> His voice is cold, just like the shiver she felt down her back.  _< Don’t follow me.>_

Angst drenches Cordelia’s being as he walks away from the manor. She falls to her knees, the soft grass cushions the impact. Despite everything that has happened tonight, this had to be the worst of it. Her discomposure had revealed the nature of her emotions—that Octoling had meant the literal  _world_ to her. Her anxiety from before, when she had agreed to date him, was an excuse keeping her from the one being that gave her comfort. He had been nothing but good to her—and why was it she was realizing this at the exact moment that she roasted him? Distress erupts from her lips as she grips the grassy blades, trembling with anger. not noticing the bag slide down her arm. This time, she had no one to blame but herself. She had fucked up in the most excruciating way possible. Without the Octoling by her side …god, how was she going to cope?!

The last thing she wanted to hear was her mother’s voice echo from the doorway.  

“My god, Cordelia. What’s happened to you?” She can hear her mother’s dainty footsteps on the cobblestone driveway.

“Go away!” She yells at the top of her lungs. There was no point of remaining sane at this point—there was nothing to lose.

“Please, I know your father and I gave you an awful fright, but please come back inside. You don’t have to talk to us, but you’ll catch a chill of you stay out here. You know how cold the beachfront gets at night.” She tries to put her arm around Cordelia to help her up but she bats her off. “Please, enough wailing, just come inside.”

She scrambles to her feet and takes off in the opposite direction of her mother, towards the long driveway. Cordelia knew it was senseless, that her property was too far to leave it completely. But she had to get away from her mother—hell, there was no one in the house she could trust. Cordelia bolts along the grass, not caring how her feet fare against the terrain. If she had her phone, she’d have called a cab—no—a limo. It would have been her best bet since she left her bag on the grass. She’d charge her father up the ass before being cut off from her source of income. That’s right—she potentially screwed herself out of her allowance too. Despair falls Cordelia as she catches a glimpse of her hair. The damn buttermilk colour causes her to grimace. Now she had the reminder of her Firthe heritage on top of all of this bullshit. She hears the faint sound of her mother calling her name from the distance. God, why didn’t that woman leave her alone? She had every other crucial moment in her life.

Cordelia turns to see the woman’s out of breath, resting her hands on her knees as she recomposes herself What Cordelia doesn’t expect is when her mother’s willowy arms embrace her soon after she was so out of breath.

“I’m so sorry I hit you.” Her emerald eyes are laced with tears while holding her daughter close to her. “I’m sorry for more than you can possibly imagine.”

Cordelia tries to fight back the urge to hug her mother—she was still deathly angry, but, she allows the contact—at this point, she’s too exhausted to beat her away.

“I told your father he has to listen to your demands, or I’d expose him.” She speaks in a low whisper. “He’s done nothing but put the three of us at risk. I sincerely regret that I didn’t do more to help you back at the study.”

She can feel the genuinely of her mother’s words, but Cordelia is still too mad to give her a response. She eases onto her rear, feeling the cool blades of grass against her skin. To Cordelia's surprise, her mother joins her. 

The silver haired inkling takes a deep breath before she breaks she loosens her lips. “Last year, I saw your father talking to a tall fellow, who looked strikingly similar to him. I thought it nothing at the time until I overheard him address your father as well…father.” You see Cordelia, the Firthes kept Fitzpatrick a secret from everyone—including myself.”

“But, why did the two of you decide to keep it a secret from me?”

“I would have explained it if you didn’t …no, never mind about that. Your father never wanted to broach the subject with you, and our …relationship was a little strained at the time I found out.”

“It’s always been strained.” Cordelia admits freely. At this point, there was nothing to lose from being honest.

Her mother’s silence reveals that she is in agreement.

“How did you feel, when you found about Dad’s … _other kid?"_

“Hurt, betrayed, angry—like how you feel right now, I presume.”

Cordelia nods. She was rightfully ticked, although the running helped her calm down. Getting her frustrations out had greatly relieved the tension, but, not the guilt she felt from the Octoling’s absence.

“I’m just so angry at him for being so aloof all these years. He told me loved me, his one and only daughter. I thought it was because I was his only child, but, I suppose he didn’t lie to me about that part.”

“If there’s one thing I don’t question, it’s your father’s love for you, even if at times it seems …misguided. You are his world, Cordelia. You might be the one person who can make it through to him—get him to abandon his silly ideas.

“That’s not what you had said before.” Cordelia reminds her. “You told me to be suspicious of him.”

“I did because he can also be unpredictable.” Her brows soften. “He broke down after you left—pouring his heart out to me about why he did it. It could have been an act, but, I don’t believe it was. He admitted to me that he was scared he had lost you—and don’t get me wrong—I’m not telling you to forgive him. But, talk to him, make your own judgments. I just ask you that you deeply consider the repercussions should you decide to expose him—what might happen to you as a result of that.”

Cordelia wasn’t stupid. She understood the ramifications.

“As I said before, it was never about exposing him. I just wanted him to stop, because if someone else found out, he could go to prison—or worse.” Cordelia frowns as she rests her chin on her knees. “But anything you say in his defence will just sound like you’re trying to defend him.”

“Cordelia, of course, I want to defend him. He’s my husband and I love him—despite his numerous faults. He’s been nothing but considerate and loyal to me—even if I questioned him so in the beginning.” She shakes her head.

“How did you and Dad even fall in love? The two of you are so different—yet—you’ve stayed together for all this time.”

I was twenty when I met him, he was introduced to me by my own mother. She had desperately hoped the two of us would get married, so she could be connected to the Firthe name. I, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in marriage and wanted to become a professor at the  _University of Angloclams_. I studied hard, and diligently for years. But, as I came to learn, your father was quite the irresistible man, and admittedly, I was starting to fall in love with him. I’d do things I normally would  _never_ do, although, I can’t say it was the most devastating thing that happened to me.” Cordelia didn’t need to know the rest of the story, she was reminded well enough of how that ended. “At that moment, my future was decided.”

“But you didn’t have to  _keep_  me.” Cordelia adds. “You could have pursued your dream, became a professor. You didn’t have to marry Dad, or, become a mother.”

“Cordelia, I would have never terminated you. I just  _knew_  it was the right thing to do.” She sighs, “Even if I didn’t do the best job in putting you first.” Cordelia doesn’t know how to respond. Her mother was being so open and honest with her when she was used to the exact opposite. “But, I want you to know one thing—I never regretted having you, despite your challenges.”

“My  _challenges_?”

“Well, you have to admit, you were not an easy child to raise—very fussy and never sat still. If you have a daughter one day, I daresay you will know exactly what I went through.”

“Well, that’s …comforting.” Cordelia sighs as she rolls her eyes.  

“The reason I wanted you to wed so early is because of your father’s dealings. I wanted you to be disassociated from this family because I knew he’d land us up destitute, or worse. I would rather that you’ve had hated me than suffer with the rest of us. I was so furious because I was scared. I didn’t know how else to protect you.” Her mother’s tears multiply as they stream down her cheeks. “I know now that I was wrong to do so.”  

The one thing she knew of her mother, is that she was a proud woman who never uttered regret or sorrow—until now. Cordelia couldn’t believe the tearful mess that her mother had become in the span of two minutes.

“I can’t say I understand why you weren’t forthcoming? Why not just be honest with me about what my father was doing?”

“By the time I found out, you had already learned Octarian. I was afraid that he had already groomed you for the task.” She sighs. “I should have told you when I found out—but—I still don’t even know  _why_  he’s doing it. It’s something I advise you ask him, should you decide to talk to him tomorrow.”

Cordelia doesn’t want to talk to him—there wasn’t any point to. Instead, her thoughts drift to the exchange she had with the Octoling. She wasn’t even positive he was going to come back—if he had come to his senses—he wouldn’t.

“I hope you weren’t too hard on him.” Her mother says as if she could read Cordelia’s mind.  

Cordelia holds her knees together. “He said he needed a walk to cool down, but, I’m afraid he’s going to change his mind and leave. I did say some pretty awful things.”

“So then there’s no hope in asking if you’d still attend the engagement party. Not that it’s a bother—but—we’ll need to come up with a reasonable story, so neither of you aren’t too impacted.” The silver haired Inkling changes the subject, seeing that it deflates her daughter’s mood even further. “I don’t know much of the Octoling, but he seems devoted to you. Especially if he was willing to put his reputation on the line. I doubt he’ll stay mad for long.”

She prays that her mother is right, but she had never seen him so angry before. If he had decided to come back to her, it’d have been a miracle.

“I don’t think so. He seemed really pissed off.” She mumbles.

“He might need a chance to recover from your sharp tongue. To be fair, he’s not the only victim of it, although I certainly understand. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t have acted much different.”

“Thanks for saying that.” Cordelia whispers. It was nice to know that her mother showed her support. “Now, how about we get off this damp grass and go where it’s comfortable. You’re going to catch a cold.”

Cordelia watches as her mother springs from the ground. She offers a hand to Cordelia, lifting the Inkling to her feet. She was limber, which was unexpected. The chat she had was nice, even if a bit …odd, considering the circumstances. But, she was right. It was better that the two head inside. As her mother had promised, it wasn’t like she was going to be bothered by her father. He would keep his distance until she addressed him—which—she didn’t know what she would say even if she wanted to speak to him. She was still mad at her father and hurt that he kept this kid of his a secret for so long. Why didn’t he think he could trust her or her mother with the truth?

 

Cordelia closes the door to her room, switching from her now soiled dress. She hops about in place as she reaches for the zipper—the damn thing was in the most awkward place. She frowns when she sees the tailor-made blue dress hanging on the hook of her door. It looked so beautiful—not silly—as what her mother had originally thought. It was kind of a shame that she’d never get to wear it.

Cordelia opens to door to the connected bathroom and cleans herself off. The dirt really made its way under her fingernails. Her mother’s talk did help her feel better, however, she still felt those nerves of helplessness. Why had she been so stupid? Why did she say those horrible things that she did? She would do anything to go back and tell the Octoling that she appreciated him. Now, she might be stuck to deal with this mess alone. What she doesn’t expect is another wave of nausea to hit so suddenly, as she hunches over the sink. Damn anxiety. She coughs, barely able to keep the tears back from her eyes. This was absolutely disgusting. She washes the sink immediately with the lemon smelling soap she used to clean her fingernails. Cordelia leans against the wall—she knew how these nauseous spells worked. Another session was sure to follow, but she’d aim for the toilet this time.

When Cordelia feels better, she changes into a different nightdress—this one was longer—tickling the tips of her knees. This dress also had thin straps keeping it up, but it was a pale green. Cordelia takes a deep breath as she opens the window, leaving it open just a crack. It might have been wishful thinking at that part, but, the Octoling might come back. And if he did, she would make it up to him. No matter what, she would make it up to him.


	31. Chapter 31

The early morning sky had barely any stars across the horizon—not that it mattered. What little stars there were went unnoticed by the angry traveller beneath them. The tall man grips both his hands with unfathomable rage. For hours, he had been walking around in circles. Fatigue did not claim him, or his tired legs. His rage knew no limits. 

 _Damn her and her cursed words, her wretched spews._  Radjerd kicks the dirt beneath him—where would he be able to go in the depths of night? He hadn’t brought his things—leaving in a rather heated argument with …he can’t even think of her name in good conscience before his throat erupts in a deep growl. How  _dare_  she say those cursed things about him—he had been an Elite of top-class back in his reign. It wasn’t his fault that his superiors thought him too clever for his own good and sent him off into danger. If he only knew he would have met  _her_ , he stews. His temper was getting the best of him.

Again.

Radjerd stops, letting out a sigh. If he were to stray too far from the manor, would she be safe? No, he corrects himself.  _She_  made her bed. It was about time she lied in the chaos she had created.  _Why couldn’t she trust him with the truth? Why did she have to demoralize him instead?_ She  _forced_  him into acknowledging how the  _others_ made him feel.

Insignificant.

A muffled whimper leaves his throat. Her family, the one she constantly blamed for her problems, were decent people. Her father, despite his dealings with the Octarians, was one of the nicest individuals Radjerd had met in his lifetime. The older man was  _invested_ in him, listened to what he had to say—how he had felt.  _He_  was a genuine person who cared a lot about his daughter. There was no way he would hurt her. He grits his teeth—for a minute, he had thought that he could be a part of that family. While he didn’t want to marry Cordelia under false pretenses, once he agreed to the plan, her father had talked to him about the things they could do together. More hiking trips, a shared beer on the patio. A trip to his woodsy cottage where they could shoot the shit. He liked the man, despite his shortcomings. Cordelia ruined all of it with her rash behaviour. It simply wasn’t fair. He liked her family. He  _trusted_ her father. Radjerd had even  _admitted_  to her father that he  _loved_ Cordelia… No word of it was a lie.

Until now.

She hurt him. No excuse would rectify how he suffered. He thought he could cool himself down, but the rage was still there. Even worse, anguish would take its place. He was heartbroken. He mourned the life they could have lived together—the beach house he secretly envisioned them living in, the child they would have had. It was a girl, the spitting image of him—with Cordelia’s brilliant blue eyes. He would read to her at night, sing her the songs from his childhood, teach her the ways of his people. She would never have felt alone—he wouldn’t make the same mistakes his own negligent parents had. As for Cordelia, he would have found a job, have provided for her—ensure that she would never shed a tear over family woes again. He would have loved her, the way she deserved to be loved. Because she was brilliant, driven, beautiful. He would have taken care of the family they had made together.

He draws in a deep unsteady breath before opening his eyes. The life he imagined was perfect. But now, his dream was in shambles. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. It didn’t work out with Freydis. Why in the hell did he think it would have with Cordelia? Someone as beautiful as her, as  _perfect_  as her… God,  _no!_  He was supposed to be furious!

He is furious.

Lost.

Mourning his shattered dream.

His weary eyes wander around the wooded path that lay before him. There was nothing left for him here. He had no choice but to leave. It didn’t matter that his things were at the manor, it was better he didn’t see the Firthe heiress. If he did, he might change his mind. He might decide to stay—subjugating himself to another tongue lashing.

He has nothing to lose—he already lost it all.

Radjerd takes one faithful step through the dark wooden path, hearing the sticks snap beneath the soles of his shoes. His sharply dressed attire would serve as a bonus here. If any of the Inklings decided to jog through, they would have seen him as a resident of the area—or at least, he hoped that would be the case. He was still an Octoling, and Octolings weren’t well appreciated in Inkopolis. He understood that much.

Where did this path lead? Radjerd hopes it’s to the road, away from the other mansions spanning the coastline. This path still had to be on Firthe land, so… it doesn’t clue in that this could be one of the trails Aleck had referenced on their hike prior.

_Dammit._

He was too deep into the woods to change his mind. The forest was dimly lit, blocking out most of the hues of the early morning sky. The sweet smell of the morning air wafted around Radjerd, briefly calming him from his thoughts. He wasn’t going to be bothered here—that he could be assured of. 

A beam of light peers through the branches, stopping the Octoling in his tracks. He gasps, ducking behind the widest tree he could find. Just his luck that the moment he thinks he’s safe,  _he’s not_. Whoever it was would report him to the masses, arrest him for trespassing. Radjerd has seen the size of these houses—these Inklings had resources beyond his comprehension. They were the  _favoured_  race, after all. Sweat beads from his forehead as he can hear the tired grunts of his potential attacker. He braces himself, ready to defend himself against his shacked fate.

With one step, he leaps from his post only to shield his eyes from the bright light coming from his potential attacker’s cellular device. He hisses, blocking his eyes with both arms. A shriek follows until he feels the light scan over his body. The voice—quite proper in tone—gasps in delight. Those vaguely familiar grunts from earlier—he looks up from his arm, barely being able to see. The light from before had temporarily blinded him.

 _< I. Relieved. Found. You.> _a robotic voice spoke broken Octarian.

It appeared to be coming from the  …cellular device? He tries his best to focus on her features—her silver hair reflected the slivers of light that peered through the branches. Now that his sight had returned, he noticed her strong, relieved emerald eyes.

What in the hell was  _her_  mother doing here?

 _< Follow me.> _The robotic female voice speaks.

While he was surprised that the posh Inkling woman had followed him  _unnoticed_ , there was no way he was going to listen to her. He turns away, proceeding forward.

 _< Follow me.> _The robotic voice speaks, louder than it had been before.

No. He’s not going to  _follow_  her anywhere. He keeps walking until he feels a heavy weight on his arm—the woman had lunged herself forward and was  _pulling_  on his wrist to turn around. She harshly speaks in her native inkling tongue. He wasn’t able to identify a bloody word she said, except for the name Cordelia. Thankfully,  _Cordelia_  had taught him one word that should make it through to this woman.

“Good Bye.” He speaks in his best Inklish accent. Hopefully, that would deter her. He hears silence until her cellular device speaks again.

 _< Follow me.>_ Was that the only thing the contraption knew how to say? No, he wasn’t going to  _follow_  her. The last thing he wanted to do was to  _follow._ If she had known what her daughter had said to him…

“ _Good. Bye.”_ His tone is aggressive as he yanks his arm away from the older Inkling woman’s grasp. He’s not going back.

<FOLLOW ME!> This time, it was the woman’s voice that graced his ears. Her voice was commanding, authoritative. She locks her arms around him and pulls him toward the direction back home. He didn’t want to hurt the woman, but, she was making quite a fuss. If he didn’t follow her back to the manor, he knew that the silver haired Inkling would become a problem. Without thinking twice, he picks her up, throwing the older woman over his shoulder. Her indignant gasp slightly worries the Octoling, but he presses forward. He couldn’t delay much longer in the woods. There was one thing he was surprised by. She was lighter than Cordelia.

 _< LET GO!> _Her authoritative voice commands. 

 _Not unless you leave me alone,_ he thinks to himself. He knew the silver haired Inkling wouldn’t. Radjerd sees an opening through the trees—the two would be out of the woods shortly. Instead, he feels a solid slap against his ear, followed by a sharp knee to his back. He hisses in pain, dropping the silver haired Inkling, although she was the last of his concerns. Getting hit in the face was. In fact, without realizing what was happening, she yanked his arm down and slaps him across his cheek. He narrows his eyes fiercely at the older Inkling, but she doesn’t back down.

<Follow. Me.> Her voice is clear and direct. Nothing phased this woman, did it? He had to admit, it was something to admire.

He grumbles, allowing the Inkling woman to guide him from the woods. If he  _had_  to go back to the manor, he could collect his things. Even though he accepted his fate earlier, it would be nice to have his belongings with him. There would be a chance that one of the manor’s staff could assist him—he  _did_ meet some fellow Octarian speakers within his stay.

The black haired Octoling is surprised to see a small black limo waiting for them upon their exit. He surmised from the expression worn on the older Inkling’s face that she hadn’t expected to see this vehicle either. Radjerd takes a step back when he sees Aleck Firthe step outside the vehicle. He's both nervous, and relieved. The Inkling’s concern for his wife shows in his weary blue eyes, but she replies in an aggressive tone, sharply keeping all limbs away from him. Despite her aggression, he appears to be inviting his wife back to the limo. She bats him away, however, accepts the front seat. She seemed livid at her husband. Could it be for the same reason that Cordelia was? With a deep sigh, the older Inkling man turns to Radjerd.

<Hello, Lad.> His smile is weak. <You wouldn’t believe the chaos I’ve created in just one night.>

Radjerd frowns, his violet eyes dart away from the Inkling.

<I got concerned when I saw my wife leave the manor. I thought it best to follow her, thinking that she was out on a stroll to calm her nerves. Colour me surprised to discover it was to find you.>

Radjerd’s not sure if he’s allowed to speak.

<Come with me, we can talk to my daughter together.> He exhales dramatically as they step into the limo. It doesn't take long for the vehicle to start moving. <You two can patch things up.> 

<There’s no need.> He frowns heavily. <I’ll come along, but I’m gathering my things as soon as we arrive. I have no intention of staying.>

He runs his fingers over his forehead, assumingly cursing in Inklish. <No, you can’t do that. She’s just angry because of me—for what I did. Please don’t blame her for my shortcomings. I like you, we were starting to get along quite well. I like the idea that you’re looking out for my daughter. I know she can be hasty, but please, don’t give up on her.>

<It’s clear how she feels.> He shakes his head in defeat. <I can’t change her mind.>

<I’ve never heard my daughter cry so helplessly in all of my life. It destroys me to my core.> The older Inkling grips the edge of his loosely fitted shirt. <At least I know you can put a smile on her face.>

Cordelia’s lips were the  _last_  thing he wanted to think about.

<The beach house is yours.> Aleck’s sudden proclamation stuns the Octoling into shock. <I wanted to give it to you as a present—to welcome you into the family. Once I purchase the property, it’s yours. Even if…> He struggles to speak. <…Even if you and Cordelia go your separate ways.>

Radjerd isn’t sure if Aleck is trying to persuade him, distract him, or both. Yet, his gesture …it’s kind. Gracious, even.

Radjerd reminds him, <You know that the two of us aren’t engaged.>

<I do, and that doesn’t matter to me. But… I do worry about your position once …okay, I won’t beat around the bush with this.> He clears his throat. <I’ve been working with the Octarians, but it was because of my son. Cordelia’s half-brother, which, is part of the reason why she is so angry with me. There is a war coming, and I worry about your placement, especially since Octolings will be considered a threat. I wanted you to marry her  _because_  I want you to be safe. If you’re a Firthe, I can protect you.>

<Why do you want to protect me?> Radjerd asks. <So you can rope me into a scheme?>

<No, there’s virtually  _nothing_  you can do. I can’t tell you too much, because Cordelia needs to know first. I owe it to her to tell her, she might be able to see I’m not a traitor to my people. But if the two of you can’t work it out, I want you to have a place to call your own.>

<Why are you doing this?> Radjerd can’t understand his motives. <Offering me a house, even though I’m not engaged to your daughter.>

<I was hoping the two of us could become friends.>  His laugh is hollow. <After all of this, you might be the last person I can call a comrade. It might be wrong of me to bribe you in this way, Radjerd. I do care about your safety. But, if I could ask you one favour—please talk to my daughter. I  _beg_  you.>

Radjerd doesn’t sense any word he’s speaking is a lie. It baffles him how considerate this man is to him. Or, he's being used. He's not entirely sure. 

<Don’t worry over the tongue-lashing Cordelia gave you. My girl’s never been the best with words, or the most charismatic. Please don’t fault her for that. She told me that she’d rather see me court-martialed, and, I have no reason to believe that is true.> The uncertainty in his voice indicates that he’s not sure of that himself. <But please, give her another chance. If my wife was out here looking for you, then you know it must be for a reason for it. She would have never dedicated any effort if she thought it’d have been a waste.>

Radjerd is torn. Angry, but torn. He remembers the scornful words she had said, but… he does feel that hopeful pang. That she did care for him—but, that didn’t change the fact that she went too far.

Radjerd closes his eyes as he leans back in his seat. Cordelia was the last person he wanted to see.

 ***

Cordelia throws the blanket off of her as she wriggles her toes in the plush rug. Guilt built in her stomach from the night before.  _That_  conversation wasn’t one she wished to remember. No, last night wasn’t worth rehashing. She had cried herself to sleep, hugging the pillow as if it were the Octoling—it was a poor substitute. The morning sun peered through her open window—she would have been stupid if she expected that the Octoling would grace her windowsill. After the lashing she had given him, it would have just been plain ignorant.

Cordelia gently steps towards her closet and searches for a dress to wear. A pale green sleeveless garment catches her interest. It flares out at the bottom with white frills lacing the ends of the collar and the hem. The bodice had a faded print of white lilies—her favourite flower. She hadn’t worn this dress in quite some time, but something told her this garment was appropriate for the conversation she had ahead of her.

Despite  _everything_  that her father had done, Cordelia wished to speak with him, even after the massive blow-up that she had. To hide that she had a brother—half-brother or not—was cruel. She had a right to know about her own family. It hurt her heart that her father out of all people was turning out to be a cheating liar. Her mother had reassured her that he wouldn’t throw her into danger, but, after the stunts that he’s pulled, how was she supposed to trust him?

But, one thing was certain. She wanted to learn more about his deal with the Octarians. She wanted to know what kind of danger he had put their family into. Her brother—which was weird to think about—would be the next topic. He owed her a lengthy explanation for all of it.  

Cordelia clutches the ends of her nightdress, gulping down a potential sob. She wasn’t going to cry again, there was no point for tears. She had to fix her mess. There wasn’t any room for errors. She refused to call the Agents until she made an effort to repair the damage she had done. Cordelia slips out of her nightdress and grabs a matching pair of undergarments from her bag. It had blades of wet grass stuck to it, reminding her of the fight the two had. She sighs as she puts them on, then the dress overtop of her. Should she bother to do her hair? It was a funny thought after the importance she put in her clothing, but maybe she’d wear it down today. She presses her lips together when she sees just  _how_  long they were now. Hopefully, her mother wouldn’t bother her too much about it. Regardless, Cordelia decides to throw it up in a bun; there was no need to draw attention to herself.

Cordelia notices a white laced ribbon on the corner of her vanity. She grabs it, experimenting with the length as she ties it around the base of her bun. It actually looks somewhat  _cute_. Cordelia smiles, even if she didn’t feel like it, at least she  _looked_  like a million bucks.

Cordelia grabs the white heels from her shoe rack. These matched her dress perfectly. She takes in a deep breath before putting them on—her stomach churns in both nausea and hunger. Was it a good time to eat, or would she just vomit it up later? She didn’t want to find out—she would just skip breakfast. The nerves would keep her from eating, as long as she was speaking with him. She quietly closes her bedroom door behind her, making a last minute decision to forgo her makeup. She sensed that crying would be involved in this venture, and if she was to be honest, she’d rather not be dealing with her father with mascara stains on her cheeks.   

Cordelia ponders where he might be—the study, or the patio? Her mother reassured her that he wanted a conversation, so him  _jumping ship_  was the least likely scenario. Nerves creep from her ankles to her legs as she walks towards the study.

Cordelia takes a deep breath, but her steel blue eyes immediately notice her mother in the downstairs foyer with— _no!_  Cordelia’s heart leaps out of her chest, as both feelings of relief and sadness fill her chest. If Cordelia were more observant of the situation, she might have realized that her mother was gripping the Octoling’s shirt, and, that he had his backpack slung across his shoulder. But she could hardly notice such details when her feet carried her down the stairs. He freezes when he notices her presence.

The two hold their gaze for a moment. A brief moment, before his lips form an angry pout. His brow furrows before he pulls away from her mother. The silver haired Inkling rushes out after him, as Cordelia too finds herself dashing after him.

“Cordelia, I tried.” Her mother’s weary voice states, but Cordelia pays her little mind. Her sights are on the Octoling as he stomps away from the manor.

<Please, stop!> She yells at the top of her lungs. She manages to catch up with him when the two are halfway down the drive, near an ivory built guest house. It felt like the two were secluded, despite being only thirty feet away from the house.

He ignores her briefly before she manages to grab his shoulder. He doesn’t shrug it off, but he’s deathly quiet when he turns to face her.

<Please, just listen to me.> She pleads.

<I’ve done enough of  _that_. > He hisses. <Don’t think I came back on my own accord. Your mother refused to leave me alone, blabbering whatever Inklish and what have you in my ear—right before your father promised me a place to live.> He growls. <You folk sure like to throw money around like it’s nothing.>

Wait, her  _mother_ , went out in the wilderness to find the Octoling, for  _her_? Her father was giving him a  _house_?! It was an overwhelmingly surprising gesture, and she certainly hadn’t expected it. But, it didn’t change her disapproval of the Octoling’s sour behaviour.

<Wait, I don’t understand—a  _house_? >

<Yes, the beach house you and I were going to live in, our  _wedding present_?! The house where we would have raised our daughter! >

Clearly, the lack of sleep was getting to the Octoling, because now he was spouting nonsense.  

<You know what, just forget it. I’ve decided not even a house is worth being demoralized by you.> He spits out before proceeding to stomp away from her.

<Demoralized?!> Cordelia raises her voice as she follows. <I did no such thing.>

<Like hell you didn’t.> He hisses. <Contrary to your belief, I am  _not_  worthless.>

<I never said you were worthless. I said that there’s no way you were in danger  _because_  you were exiled. I don’t get how that’s demoralizing.>

<That’s the problem, Cordelia. You never  _get it_ , until it’s too late.>

<What do you mean, until it’s too late?> She raises an unimpressed brow. <Stop talking in riddles, I want a clear answer.

<It doesn’t matter now.> His voice is sharp. <Because your father made it clear that he liked me, that he wanted me to be a part of this family. It infuriates me that I can’t tell if he’s trying to bribe me with a house for his own personal gain, or, if he genuinely likes me!> The fluctuation in his voice changes with each word, indicating to Cordelia that he’s exhausted.  <Do you know how tiring that is?!>

God, he said nothing to her about the closeness him and her father had shared—especially since her father had promised him a home. She wasn’t sure if he was confused—because he had promised them  _both_  a house, or if her father had actually agreed to it. There would be no reason for her father to give the Octoling a house for no reason. Unless her father genuinely cared for the Octoling—which was entirely possible. Cordelia winces, the awareness she had now made her feel guilty.

<I didn’t know …I’m sorry.>

<I heard meaningless  _sorry's_  before, but this one takes the cake.>

<You’re not letting me explain—>

<I don’t care, Cordelia. I am  _finished_ with you! _>_

<What?> A helpless whisper escapes her shocked lips. Her eyes become instantly glossy. Cordelia doesn’t hear his reasoning. All she hears is the heartbeat in her ears intensify. The Octoling meets her gaze, his features softening the minute he sees the disdain on her face.

<N-no, Cordelia, I didn’t mean—>

<Don’t try to back yourself out of this. You want to end this, then go right ahead!> She seethes before she spins on her heel. <I’m done playing these  _stupid_  games!>  

Cordelia couldn’t run fast enough to escape the pressure against her chest—the intensifying dizziness that she had felt. She could barely keep her head up, bolting in the direction of the beachfront.

She couldn't deal with any more pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie, what a time to be alive... Will these two ever get it right? 
> 
> If you want to scream at me in person, check out the official Discord server for this fic! Imagine that, now you have the opportunity to not only yell at me in the comments, but on Discord as well! [Click here to scream at me in the Official My Lie To Keep Discord Server](http://bit.ly/2MkFQxw) where you get to speculate what happens next in the story, or just yell at me in different languages. (Just a forewarning that it's NSFW friendly, so if you're not into NSFW content, it might just be safer to yell at me on AO3 instead) 
> 
> Until next time,  
> Rose <3


	32. Chapter 32

Cordelia storms into the foyer, slamming the door behind her. She detested that Octoling. How dare he make a fool of her! She sits on the stairwell, ignoring the footman's greeting. She stares at the ceiling, needing a quick space to collect her thoughts. Her mother was outside, and ... _oh god,_  she hears footsteps from behind. That could only mean one thing. 

“Cordelia.”

“Do you  _think_  I want to talk to you…?” She speaks with her head resting against her knees. She refuses to leave the stairwell, instead, leaning her knees up against the wall. Her father’s voice reminds her of that wretched night—she can’t bear to look at him without wanting to punch him in the face. He hovers around, but she chooses to keep quiet. 

It would have been perfect, if only he had left her side. Cordelia lets out a long drawn sigh as her drowsiness lulls her temper for the moment. “I just don’t get why you felt that lying to me was worth it, because I feel like it’s…” she doesn’t finish her sentence; her father takes the mantle. 

“Pathetic? I know it is. I knew it should have told you, but I was a coward.” He frowns, gripping both hands as he lowers his knees, sitting alongside Cordelia on the stairs. He tells his footman to clear the foyer, as he needs to speak to his daughter in private. Well, now that he went through all the trouble to clear the premises …ugh, she had no choice but to go through with it now. She planned to talk to him this morning, but she hadn't expected her confrontation with the Octoling. Why did his words have to sting so much? She should be glad she was rid of him, he was more of a menace than what he was worth. She ignores when her innards begin to interfere with her thoughts—it was clearly a lie.

“I did it for  _him.”_  Her father breathes slowly as she can hear him mentally prepare himself. He was about to share something big.

Cordelia doesn’t want to hear his excuses. “Who the hell is so important that you put your entire family at risk?!”

Congestion laces his voice. “It was for Fitz.”

“Fitz…?” Her eyes widen at the realization. Was he referring to … _god,_  her half-brother? “I don’t understand, what does he have to do with the Octarians?”

“Delia…” She pauses at the name. He hadn’t called her Delia since she was a little girl. “I don’t know how to talk about this—it’s hard for me.”

“And you think it's any easier for me?” She scoffs, burying her chin between her legs. “My god damn family was dancing around the truth for years, and it’s hard for you? How do you think that makes me feel? To be abandoned because I wouldn’t marry some asshole who was cheating on me anyway—or, to find out that the person born before me that should be the  _true heir_  to the family fortune. But he, he gets to have the privilege of having you break the law, and tear our family apart for him. But, I get the reprimand!”  Cordelia glares at her old man. “To think my own parents would cast me aside so easily…”

“That’s not true.” He frowns. “When you were a baby, your mother never left your side. You were her world, her everything—that I can assure you. In fact, she would be so protective, she didn’t trust me to hold you longer than five minutes. Of course, I wanted nothing more to snuggle with you, but you know how your mother is. She can be quite the force to be reckoned with.”

Oh, Cordelia knows. The thought makes her feel hollow. She never heard those stories growing up—she had assumed her mother had stayed away from rearing her as a baby, but to hear that her mother was as involved and protective as she was… why did that leave a pang in her chest?

“You didn’t like me much at first, but, I figured that was nature doing its’ thing. I promised myself that I would be a dad worthy of your affection.” His voice breaks as he speaks in a sombre tone. “You used to pout anytime I took you away from her—in fact, there were many nights that she’d stay near your crib, refusing to leave your side—”

“Enough. Don’t try to warm me up with your stories!” Her voice rises as she musters the energy that she needs to stand up. “I had a brother this whole time, and you didn’t think I should know? You  _knew_  how lonely I felt as a child, I used to  _plead_  for a sibling. You knew this entire time that I wanted one, but you refused to tell me.”

“Because I couldn’t see him anymore.” Her father raises his voice as he goes to reach for her hand, but she recoils as she turns from him. “You and your mother, you two are my entire life. My father, your grandfather …sent them away from me. He promised me that Fitz would get the education necessary to make something of himself, that his mother would be cared for …if I agreed to pursue your mother.” He lowers his voice.

“Pursue her …in what way?” Cordelia grows suspicious. “Was I a means to acquire her?”

“God, no!” Her father speaks too soon for her own liking. “I’d never do that to your mother.”

“Mom seemed to have suspicions.” Her arms crossed tightly across her chest. “And honestly I can see her point. Looking for a way to please your father so you go after the best catch you can find by impregnating—”

“Now that’s enough!” Her father warns. “I will  _not_  be having you spread lies. It was an accident, on both of our parts.”

“Glad to hear I was an accident.” She hisses. “Now tell me more about my  _brother_.”

“How did we let things get like this…” His long drawn sigh shows his irritation. “You and I used to have a great relationship.”

“Do  _not_  change the subject.” Cordelia’s fingers curl into a fist. 

Her father sighs. “Your brother, Fitz, he’s…” He struggles as he allows himself to speak. “Is one of the Generals fronting the upcoming war.”

Cordelia gasps, briefly connecting the dots.

“He came to me a year ago with a proposition.” He straightens his back. “I recognized him immediately when he came to the warehouse—it was like staring back into a mirror of myself many years ago.” He adds quickly, “You have to understand what Octarian culture is like—their society is decaying—give them thirty more years and they’re likely to be underwater. Our officials don’t care about their safety. This war is the only thing that can bring the attention to their living conditions.”

“Dad, they’ve made drones. Drones that can wipe us out, and potentially replace the Octarian race, depending on the direction that they take.” She watches her father’s eyes widen. “He never told you about that, did he?”

“I …no I didn’t know …but, god, if I knew that’s what they were conjuring up…” He pauses. It’s clear that he’s having trouble producing coherent thoughts. “I had no idea, please believe me.”

“You do realize he tried to kill me.” Cordelia switches the subject.

He swallows, hard. “I understood that he had resentment for you. When he came to me with the evidence of you being Agent 4, he struck the deal with me, regarding your safety for aiding him in his objectives. But, to say I wasn’t involved before would be a lie.” His shoulders slump as he lowers his neck. “It’s my fault that Fitz is like this. If only Octarians had the same opportunities that we did, maybe things would have turned out different."

“Are you  _just_  going to ignore what I said?  _He tried to kill me!_ ” She growls.

“If it were  _anyone else_ , I would have struck them down myself. But, he’s my son. You tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

“It’s as you said.” She begins to lose her patience. “Maybe he wouldn’t have resorted to this life. Maybe I could have had a great life, and not having to deal with you and mom’s bullshit all alone. It would have been nice to have the support, but instead, he wants me dead because I was your favourite.” It didn’t make sense to her then, but now, that flashback of the green-eyed Inkling swirled through her thoughts. “You didn’t seem to think that might have had any repercussions?!”

“Mark my word, if he had maimed you, I’d have his throat.” His tone is menacing, yet regretful.

“Then pull back, take your hand out of the rainmaker production.” She demands. “Or, I’ll take matters into my own hands.” She knows what she’s walking into. She's sick of sitting on the sidelines. 

“No!” He raises his hand. “You’re not going to do something that reckless.” 

“He’s got no ties to me.” She speaks bitterly. “He said so himself.”

“He’s upset, after the tongue lashing—”

“—No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to comfort me after all that you’ve said and done. That’s not right, or fair! Because of your stupid behaviour, I made a huge mistake. The only man in his right mind to accept me, I’ve cut off completely.”

“Then listen to me carefully. The minute this war starts, Radjerd will be in trouble. If you care at all for him, you’ll apologize and make amends. I understand that it was a farce the first time, but him marrying into our family might be the only thing that can save him.”

“Are you fucking serious? Did you  _not_  hear what I just said—I blew it.” She spits out.

He rests a hand on her shoulder. “Cordelia,  _listen_. I know you hate me and are angry, but don’t let Radjerd go because of it. If he leaves, there’s no way of knowing if he’ll be okay. He’s a good lad, I don’t want to see anything bad happen to him—not on my accord.” Compassion laces his words. 

That was the most genuine he had sounded yet. 

“What if I don’t want to marry him?” She glowers. If Cordelia had the right mind, she’d stomp out of the foyer and go to her room. “What if I don’t care  _what_  transpires.” Worry trickles through her gut—obviously, that was a big fat lie.

“I’m serious, Cordelia. I get the feeling he’s not favoured back home, and who knows  _what_  they’ll do to him if one of their soldiers finds him—or worse, a drone. Even if the two of you decide to live in separate abodes, just consider it, please.”

Cordelia’s brows furrow as her lips pursed. He didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. Proposing marriage would put them right back where they started. Cordelia groans.

“You don’t get to dictate what I do.” Her tone is cross. “You can’t expect me to be okay with all of this—from sliding the truth under the rug, and now, a fake marriage propositioned by  _you_.”

“Now isn’t the time to be stubborn. If you care for him at all,  _you will_  apologize to him and get him to accept your proposal.”

Cordelia scoffs. “I don’t need this.” She turns on her heel as she makes her way up the stairs. She ignores her father’s orders to stay, or, the slow creek of the main door opening. It’s only her mother’s commanding words that halt her in her tracks.

“Cordelia!” Nerves shoot up her back as she slowly arches her neck. “We have a situation.”

God, not another  _family_  occurrence. She had enough of those to last a lifetime.

“We have a problem that needs attending to. Said problem is sulking in the guest house.”

No, her mother couldn’t be referring to the Octoling.

“Don’t look so shocked, he’s not going anywhere.” Her mother looks pleased with herself as she spins the key around her finger. 

Cordelia is mortified.

“What did you do?” A worried tone laces her speech. 

She crosses her arms triumphantly. “What I had to. He’s such a baby, honestly. I thought an Elite was supposed to be tough?”

Her mouth drops. “Mom, tell me what you did.”

“The bastard had it coming for trying to roughhouse me.” She says with annoyance, which raises even more questions for Cordelia.  

“Merise, please tell me you were easy on the lad.”

She ignores her husband’s concerned stare. “I only did what I believed necessary. Nothing more.” The finality of her words causes Cordelia to develop paranoia. What exactly was her mother capable of? Surely, the Octoling wouldn’t try to  _hurt_  her, would he? Cordelia wasn’t sure anymore.

“I locked him in the guest house, and he’s going to stay there until you calm down. We can’t have him escaping and sharing the intel that he knows. The Octarian debacle will only be shared  _by_  our family, not some rogue Octoling. If you have any concern for that Octoling at all, he needs to stay put until the two of you cool down. We can’t have him rushing off.”

Dammit, that’s exactly what her father had said. Why did she have the feeling that she was going to get ganged up on by the two of them? She groans heavily.

“Fine.” She grabs the keys. “But if he doesn’t listen to me, then we’re just going to let him go. It’s his problem.”

“It will become our problem if he decides to trade what he knows about our family for Intel.” Her mother’s firm stare gives Cordelia her final conclusion—they don’t want the Octoling spilling the beans about their family secrets. “What we reveal to the public will be  _our_  business." 

Cordelia’s mind circulates with curiosity, how could her mother take down the Octoling—her frail frame didn’t leave much to the imagination.

But one thing was certain. If she were to get out of this mess, she  _would_  have to reconcile.

That was the  _last_ thing she wanted to do.  


	33. Chapter 33

“I don’t want to talk to him.” Cordelia frowns heavily. She turns away from her mother in haste, not willing to accept her request. She’s the one who apparently locked him in the guesthouse …but, Cordelia remembers that her mother can't speak Octarian. For god's sake... 

“I know you were hurt, but you’re the only person who can convince the Octoling to keep his mouth shut.” She emphasizes. “I get that this isn’t the most ideal situation out there, but I need you to contain this information promptly. If he were to feed to the public that your father is supporting the Octarians in this  _war_ , I don’t know what would happen.”

That’s right… all her mother thought about was  _the family_ , and how her actions would benefit  _the family._  Did Cordelia’s feelings even matter to her own mother? Is  _this_  why the silver haired Inkling was buttering her up last night? Cordelia shakes her head, feeling slightly betrayed.

“After whatever tactics that you decided to pull out, I highly doubt that he’s going to listen to me.” She studies her mother’s movements—they are uncomfortably relaxed as Cordelia’s steel blue eyes narrow. “What exactly did you do to him?”  

“Don’t look at me like that. I stunned him briefly using a pressure pointed system I learned in my youth. If I wanted any longer he would have torn my earrings straight from my ears.” Her finger brushes up against her lip.

Cordelia grimaces. That was imagery she didn’t need.

“A pressure pointed system?” Cordelia questions. Was that based on the pressure points of the body, or was it something entirely different? Her thoughts briefly go to Marie; was that how she trapped the Octoling in the containment centre? And, how did her mother learn such a technique? Was it from the Agents? Limitless questions race through her mind—but her most important thought was, where could _she_ learn to do that?! 

“I understand that it might be challenging, but, I need you to attempt this, Cordelia. I believe you are the only one who can reach him given his current …state of mind.” Of course, she wouldn’t tell her own daughter the origins of her tactics. Cordelia notices her mother’s fingers grazing her emerald earrings. Did she really think that the Octoling would do a thing like rip someone's earrings out? Clearly, if her mother’s hands were responding to the scenario that could have been.

“I get that.” She growls under her breath, even if she didn’t like it, her mother  _was_ right—she did have ways she could make the Octoling talk, but would they prove to be of any use? She remembers his heart-wrenching proclamation,  _that he was finished with her._  Her heart sinks at the reminder.

Both of her parents’ eyes are locked on Cordelia as she lets out a defeated sigh. Why is  _now_  out of all moments that she recalls their  _delightful_  conversation?

Her father attempts to speak after holding his silence. His weary stare is now on his wife. “Merise, our daughter has gone through enough, why don’t I talk to the lad and see if I can get him to agree to come kind of common ground—”

“And have you conspiring with him, after  _all_  that you’ve done behind our backs? I’m not letting you out of my sight.” She warns her husband, who visibly backs down from his request. “This is Cordelia’s job,  _she_  is the only one who can get through to him.”

Her father’s eyes now fix upon hers. He takes a moment before speaking. “I know what I suggested earlier, but, I only want you to do it if you know he’s right for you. I didn’t mean to sound like I was forcing you into a marriage that was unsuitable for you.”

“Marriage?! Aleck, after everything that’s happened, you would honestly suggest such a thing to Cordelia? Are you out of your god given mind?!”

“I’m thinking of the lad—he has nowhere else to go. The last thing I want to do is see him arrested because of our nation’s politics.” Embarrassment rises from his tense shoulders. “If I had any tact, I would have convinced the officials to give him some honorary status, but I think it’s too late for that now.” She’s not used to hearing her father’s voice so meek. He usually spoke with confidence, which was why he was able to take the family dynasty as far as he had—hoping to one day pass the baton to her—if he still felt that she was  _worthy_  of such a thing. Not only that but if they get sussed out for this scandal, they might very well lose it all. Maybe her mother was onto something. The buttermilk haired Inkling inwardly sighs—she really was a clueless mess.

Despite everything, Cordelia couldn’t help admitting to herself that it was kind of him to regard the Octoling so highly. And, if she were completely honest, neither did she. She hated him for what he said, but, she’d be lying if she didn’t still care about him.

“Perhaps if you didn’t go behind our backs, I wouldn’t have to throw Cordelia into this mess that  _you_  have created. I know you’re looking out for your son but I can’t allow you to put him before our daughter.” The older woman growls. “He’s an Octarian General for the love of it all—do you honestly think he’s  _not_  going to take revenge upon her in some shape or form?”

Cordelia sees that she hits a nerve.

“The conditions that the Octarians live in is irreversible! If our Cordelia lived in such a place, I know you wouldn’t allow another minute to stand by without doing something. Our political system is corrupt—something  _needs_  to change.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that’s why you kept it a secret from me this whole time because you  _wanted_  the Octarians to rise up against the Inklings. I don’t understand why you would put the safety of your son over our daughter—because of this, she might not have a future to look forward to!”

“No, the idea was that our society would be forced to make room for the Octarians, so they could live with us in harmony.”

“And you believe a war is the best place to start? There are  _no_  good wars, Aleck. There are  _other_  means of acquiring peace.”

His voice grows desperate. “I-I  _had_ to make it up to him! Because of me, his life was in shambles—Merise, he  _deformed_  himself over the identity he was faced with.” Cordelia clues in that he’s referring to the General’s oddly shaped eyes—they did look out of place, but she had thought it could have been a genetic trait. It was horrifying to learn that wasn’t the case—especially if the  _general_ had attempted to look more like an Octarian. “If that were Cordelia, how would you feel?”

“I would  _never_  let that happen to her. And shut your mouth—our daughter already has enough on her plate without you making it worse.” Her mother’s cross stare forces her father into silence. Despite the initial awkwardness she felt being in the foyer with them both, it was nice to hear how devoted her father was. It really did sound like he wanted to help the Octarians out of their mess—maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt—just this once.

“Mom, it’s fine. I’m a big girl.” Cordelia speaks up. “I’ll talk to him, see if I can get him to agree to keep things silent.”

“Just be honest with the lad, tell him how you feel. I know you care deeply for him—that’s all he needs to hear.” Her father’s words are gentle. “He’s a good fellow. He deserves a second chance.”

Tears build in Cordelia’s eyes as she hears the desperation in her father’s voice. She has a feeling he’s not only referring to the Octoling, but himself as well. But, she was still very angry about what had happened. It would be a while before she could forgive him. 

Cordelia looks to her mother for support.

“I agree that you should attempt to make nice with the Octoling.” She politely sighs. “It would be greatly warranted if you could speak to him, both for yourself and for the family. Once you secure his trust, we can have a conversation about what to do with your father.”

Her ears picked up on the sombre tone of her voice. This was breaking her mother’s heart—god. Was this the result of her hasty temper? She understood that her father was at fault, but if she had talked to him in private, instead of blowing up in his face—maybe everything could have been different. As much as she wants to refuse it, the guilt ferociously swarms within her. Indirectly, all of this …was her fault. She had no one to blame but herself.

 

The ivory guesthouse was nestled behind a row of trees, the place where her mother had taken down the Octoling. Cordelia understood that her mother said she had only applied some pressure points to stop him, but how in the world did she take him down—did she  _drag_  him into the guesthouse? He was a heavy man, she knew from experience. God, Cordelia could slap herself—thinking about his size alone caused her composure turned to mush. God, even when she was livid at him, she still found him hot. What the hell was wrong with her?  

Cordelia covers her hands over her face in exasperation. And here her parents expected them to reconcile. For her mother’s reasoning, to keep the Octarian business secure within the family. For her father—it was obvious that he has taken a shining to the Octoling. She had no doubt that he desperately wanted him to become a part of their family—which, for a brief moment, butterflies take over her insides. No. Cordelia couldn’t allow herself to get worked up. This was no time for personal feelings to come into play—he could very well reject her. The more her thoughts replayed the memory of last night, the more she regrets opening her big fat mouth.   

She takes the key and slides it into the lock. She slides the door open, peeking around the corner. She knew that the Octoling wouldn’t attack her. That much was clear. She braced herself as she closes the door behind her. Her eyes scan the simply dressed living room—the master bedroom door was open. She slips the keys into her dress pocket, carefully creeping past the pristine, ornate furniture. Soft moans come from the master bedroom, only a few feet away from where she stood. It was no doubt the Octoling, but… what was he doing? No, she was making up excuses—she had to face him. God, if only she had the courage to apologize. She was terrified of what he might say—or do.

On the cushy bed, she sees the Octoling’s bare sculpted back hunched over, his head buried in his hands. It only dawns on her that he was still wearing the same dress pants from yesterday. She sees the purple dress shirt crumpled on the floor. When he lets out a painful sob, she halts.

Was he …crying?

She lightly knocks on the open oak door as he turns his head abruptly. His once playful violet eyes were moist, stained red from emotion. Cordelia immediately gasps—this was  _not_  what she expected.  

He stares at her for a moment, before lowering his head. He says nothing as Cordelia approaches.

<So.> She begins, not understanding where to start. The awkward silence was killing her. <It’s kind of impressive how my mom locked you in here—especially considering how skinny she is. I mean, even you have to give her commandment for her efforts.> Shit,  _that’s_  what she comes out with? This was turning out to be a horrible start.

He inches away from her. <I don’t want to talk about it.>

That bad, huh? Cordelia takes a deep breath and sits beside him on the bed. If there was any good time to reconcile, now would be it. She reaches her hand out to him and places it against his bare shoulder. She was doing it to be sympathetic,  _why_  the hell was she …no, she wasn’t going to address her internal perversion.

<About yesterday—whatever I said to upset you, I didn’t mean it.> She breathes in. He doesn’t speak, but, he shrugs his shoulder away from her. Cordelia feels the moisture well up in her eyes. She’s not used to him acting this cold. <I'm sorry.>

<Sorry won’t get you anywhere.> His tone is quiet. <You made it quite clear how you think of me.>

<Whatever you think I said, I didn’t. It’s not my fault you’re misconstruing my words!>

<You can’t even address me in a civil manner before accusing me of being wrong. Take some responsibility.> The Octoling stands up, clearly annoyed with her. <If you’d get out of your own damn head for five seconds, you might see the problem here.> He narrows his bleary eyes. <You don’t even realize that I—>

She doesn’t let him finish. <Don’t even start!> She lowers her brows, pointing a strong finger in front of his face. < _YOU_ are the one who broke it off with me!>

<Cordelia, I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I didn’t know what else to do!> His voice breaks. <Do you think I want to keep arguing with you?!>

<When you take in every little thing I say and blow it out of proportion, I start to wonder if you do!>

<Are you listening to yourself right now? This is exactly what I can’t deal with.> He eases back onto the bed as a shaky sigh escapes his lips <You’re so knee deep in your own shit that you can’t even see that I care about you. Instead, you hurl insults at me like I mean nothing to y-you.> He turns away, clearly ashamed at the tears streaming down his face. He tries to speak but a choke comes out. She’s never seen him look so pained. She helplessly watches while his composure melts.

Her gut wrenches at the sight. Cordelia’s anger slowly dissipates. She wants to comfort him but doesn’t know how to approach it. She was the reason he was acting like this, so if she were to reach out—would it be bad? Why did it take until now for her to realize the strength of his affection? Regardless, it’s her punishment to sit and watch. She had the knowledge of hurting the one person that was on her side.

What he does next surprises her.

He leans his head against her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. The warm splash of his tears soaks through the fabric of her dress as his entire body vibrates with emotion.

God, what had she done?

 _I miss you._  Is what she thinks she hears between sobs. This was the first time anyone had sobbed in her lap, and of course, it had to be him.

But if she were honest, she missed him too.  _A lot_. Yet, all she can do is gently rub his back with her palm. To hold him now would feel wrong—she was the one who caused him to fall into this state.

Cordelia feels a lump in her throat as she breathes softly. This was going to be hard to say. <You don’t have to stay with me; I’ll let you go. But, in return, I need you to promise me that you’ll keep quiet about my family. This is a matter that I’ll need to sort out with my father, and, I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. You can understand that, right?> Her own voice quivers as she can barely speak. She’s trying her best not to cry, but the pain from her own words was immense. It was clear to her now, she couldn’t bear it if he agreed to leave.

He raises his head as his own tears stop. Disbelief crosses his face.

<I don’t think I could  _ever_ leave you.> His tone is gentle. <I have tried, and almost succeeded, but… I’m glad I didn’t.>

<You said we were finished. I understand if it’s better for you, to leave now before we both become too invested.>

<God no, I don’t want that.> His eyes widen in shock as he cups her face. Cordelia stiffens; why did she think he'd hit her? After the horrible things she had said, that would have been anyone's natural response. 

<I didn’t mean when I said—> She stops herself. Cordelia knows if she continued, they might be exactly where they were before—somewhere she didn’t want them to be. <Your life does matter—you should have heard what my dad was saying.>

He sniffs, easing his palms from Cordelia’s cheeks. <He’s a good man. I know he’s not being the most honest, but… he’s always shown me kindness. It would have been nice to be a part of this family.>

Cordelia’s surprised at the comment. <I thought you were against the marriage?>

<I was, but I told you last night that I was okay with it—in fact, it could have been nice. Maybe you would have seen that I could have been a good husband to you.>

<Don’t say that.> She says on impulse. She didn’t mean to sound rude. <I-I mean, that’s a bold claim.>  

He’s not amused. <I don’t understand why you have to act like this—where I’m from we’re open and honest about how we feel. And Cordelia, as much as I try to get it in my mind that you don’t care about me as much as I do you, I can’t do it. Believe me, I’ve tried.> He frowns, the bags under his eyes are apparent. He was sleep deprived. <But when I do, all I think about is the life I want with you. I want that more than anything.>

Her instant response was to shut him down immediately. But no, he was right. The affection she had kept under wraps would become her undoing. It was time to show him what she wanted. Him. 

Cordelia takes a deep breath,  _praying_  that she wouldn’t regret this. <I want that too.>

Without warning, he pulls her into a hug, resulting in both Inkling and Octoling flopping onto the cushy mattress. She can hear the sigh of relief from his lips. <If you think I’m letting go of you, think again.> 

<H-hold on, I didn’t agree to whatever you thought I meant—> She stops herself again. He pays no mind to her words. A ghost of a smile graces her lips as he pulls her against him—his heat radiates against her back. He encourages her to turn around and face him, a soft smile graces his cheeks.

This  _feels_  right.

<You don’t have to tell me what happened. I’m sorry that I pressed you.>

<No, I should have been honest to begin with. If I was, we could have avoided this altogether.> She frowns. <I didn’t mean to make you feel worthless, because you’re not. In fact…> No, she was going to leave it there. There was no sense destroying her comfort zone completely. She would enjoy this contact with him. She jumps when she feels the air against her back; he was unzipping her dress! 

<You could have just asked.> Cordelia mutters.

<No, I just want to feel your skin against mine, that’s all.>

Cordelia briefly strips from her dress and lays back down, revealing a matching set of royal purple undergarments. The heat of his skin clings to her back. It’s a nice feeling.

<This is nice.> His gentle purr tickles her ears. His voice sounds weary, sleepy even. <If I could have this every day, my life would be complete.> His grip on her tightens as his words begin to slur. Cordelia feels the same pull into slumber as he ceases his speech. His arms secure her to his chest. There was no pulling away from this—not that she would ever want to.

Cordelia smiles, feeling the pull of his arm against her waist, her eyes lull into a sense of peace, security. Within seconds, she drifts off to sleep.

 

“I can’t see them anywhere.”

“Neither can I. Aleck, check the bedroom. I’ll see if they’re upstairs.”  

“Honey, we can’t leave the girls outside, they came all this way.”

“Stop complaining. They’re here somewhere.”   

Cordelia awakes to the sound of whispers, her instinct is to shoot up immediately, but she is weighed down by the Octoling—was that the afternoon sun? God… how long have been asleep for?!

Her  _father_  of all people stands in the doorway. She can see him squinting in her direction. “O-oh dear.” He shields his eyes almost instantly.

“Come off it.” She hears her mother scoff, as she passes her husband and enters the doorway. “Cordelia, wake up, and for the love of it all, put some clothes on. The six of us need to have a conversation,  _immediately_.”

“The _six_ of us?” Cordelia wearily speaks but the Octoling has a firm grip around her chest. She struggles, her face grows hot from the embarrassment that she feels. She’s half-naked, in front of her parents.

_GOD!_

“Mom, get out!” she manages a yell. It’s warranted, considering that she is only in her undergarments. She manages to slip out of the Octoling's strong grip. 

She rolls her eyes. “It's not my fault you get yourself into these situations, but I should be relieved the two of you made up." 

"It's not like that." Her face burns from embarrassment as she steps into her dress. "Don't be so presumptuous." 

"Regardless, you'll want to tell him to wake up. The Agents are outside, and there's no reason why we should keep them any longer." 

Were the agents here? Cordelia almost screams. Why,  _why_  were the agents here?!

Cordelia whacks her hand against his back, watching her mother leave the room. 

<Wake up, my parents are  _right_  outside and we need to get ready.>

The Octoling lets out a confused groan, unsure of the situation. He reaches for her but frowns as he realizes that she's standing right behind him. 

<Who said you could go?> The Octoling says with exhaustion. 

<The  _agents_  are outside, put your shirt on.>

He stiffens as he slowly wipes the dreariness from his eyes. <Why are they here?>

<I don’t know, but I assume my mother was tired of waiting for us to resolve the situation.> She heavily sighs. <I’m not looking forward to this,  _especially_  considering that my dad is here too.> She groans, embarrassed that he had to see her like this. And, for the upcoming trails ahead. She had never called Marie to let her know that she had blown the mission. <My father isn’t innocent, and I’m nervous what the Agents might do.>

<I’m not going to let anything happen to him.> He growls. <He’s shown me nothing but kindness since I arrived. I’ll protect him.>

<No, the Agents won’t hurt him, but I told them I’d handle this.> She frowns—it’s not like she should have been surprised. But, if her father had agreed to meet with them, maybe they’d take pity on him and offer him a solution. 

God, she could only hope that her father would behave himself. If not… she might not be wise to call herself a Firthe any longer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening. 
> 
> I'm taking a writing vacation this upcoming weekend, so there will be no chapter posted next week. Never fear, I do have a short story (Freydis, anyone?) planned for the [My Lie to Keep Discord](http://bit.ly/2MkFQxw), releasing on August 24th. Also, a few of the Discord members have their own story shorts posted. It's going to be a week filled with fresh and new ideas, and I promise you, you won't want to miss it! 
> 
> Chapter 34 will be posted on September 2nd, and continue to release each Sunday until the story's completion. Because of this, I'll make 'note' to be more chatty in the notes. ;) 
> 
> I hope you guys are having a fantastic summer! 
> 
> -Rose


	34. Chapter 34

Cordelia adjusts her dress, preparing herself to exit beyond the bedroom walls. She wasn’t ready to see Marie, not after royally blowing her cover—her own mother had to call the Agents here, or, at least that’s what Cordelia perceived the situation to be. Likewise, the Octoling’s demeanour wasn’t as stoic as she expected (considering what he had just said about protecting her father from his fate, she was surprised to see the tone shift). His eyes dart nervously as he slips on his shirt; he appears to be examining the bedroom.

<Hey.> Cordelia speaks gently as she sits beside the Octoling. <It’s going to be alright.>

<It’s not.> His tone jumps in octaves. <You’re not the one who has to debate with foreign entities.>

<Foreign _entities?_ Don’t be ridiculous. > Cordelia bites her tongue as she sees the Octoling’s lips curl into a deep frown. <I mean, there’s nothing for you to worry about.> Her hand gently clasps his clammy one. <I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you, mark my word.>

<Can you keep that promise?> His eyes helplessly look at her. <I’m so tired of trying to prove myself.>

Cordelia questions what he means by that statement, but doesn’t speak it out loud. She doesn’t know what might offend him in his state, and she would rather not find out... Instead, she leans his head close to her lips and kisses his brow. She feels his breathing soften when he wraps a gentle arm around her. A surge of protectiveness shoots through her being—she’s ready to do whatever it takes to keep him safe.

“Cordelia? What’s taking the two of you so long?” Her mother opens the door, her green eyes slanted in suspicion.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to ensure him that you’re not sending him back to Octo Canyon.” Cordelia mutters back.

Her mother rolls her eyes. “Tell him he’s got nothing to worry about if he cooperates. Now get moving.” She waves her hand towards the outside. “The Agents don’t have all day.”

She rolls her eyes when her mother leans the door shut.

<Are you ready?> She speaks calmly.

<Yes.> He takes a deep breath. <Your father has done so much for me; he deserves my support.>

Cordelia nods—she vastly underestimated what her father meant to the Octoling. In fact, it was rather sweet of him to be so defensive. A warm sensation swirls in her gut. She takes in a deep breath and exhales. This was going to be _hell_.

Cordelia and the Octoling exit the bedroom; four sets of eyes are immediately upon them. The first thing Cordelia notices is Marie’s casting glare, glowering at the buttermilk haired Inkling. Callie rests her hand on Marie's shoulder. She gives her cousin a suspicious yet understandable _don’t blow it_ look.

The Octoling holds her hand as the two sit down on the ornate settee across from the Agents, a glint of surprise crosses Marie’s face as her gold eyes shoot downward, undoubtedly questioning their public display of affection. Cordelia does her best to calm her nerves—she _knew_ Marie would tear her head off if it were just her and Cordelia. Her father’s composure dwindles, while her mother looks _exhausted._ This was not where she thought she’d see herself two days ago. But, she’s comforted knowing that the Octoling’s by her side.

Even if she didn’t deserve it.

“Thank you for meeting us on such short notice.” Her mother begins, her voice eloquent. “We have come to light about …certain issues, thanks to our daughter’s honesty.” Cordelia cringes at that line. “About my husband’s dealings—“

“It’s alright, Merise.” He interrupts his wife. “I don’t expect the two of you to agree with what I’m about to say, but can you hear me out?”

Both Agents exchange nods, waiting for the older man to continue.

“Thirty years ago, I had a son with an Octoling girl—my father demanded that I abandon them, but I couldn’t. In fact, I could do nothing of the sort, but, as good as I could give them—they lived in impoverished conditions. He grew up, and is now one of the Generals of the Octarian army." Her father holds his chest as she notices the beads of sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Is your son the reason you decided to side with the Octarians?” Callie speaks softly.

“One of them. He looks to the Octoling. “You see that fella sitting beside my daughter? He’s brilliant, determined and as passionate as her, yet because of where he lived, he was given less of an opportunity to shine. Do you think that’s fair?”

“If you’re trying to distract us from your misdeeds, that’s not going to work. We know you stole the rainmaker.” Marie crosses her arms as she narrows her gold eyes. “You stole the rainmaker to aid killer Octarians in their quest, to _off_  Inklings.”

The grip on Cordelia’s hand tightens. God, Marie’s voice was making the Octoling nervous. At this moment, she pities the Octoling. He really was scared. She pats his hand in reassurance as she watches the rest unfold.

“Yes, I might have done some misdeeds, but I didn’t steal the rainmaker. The time it went missing had no correlation with the blueprints I had signed.”

“Then explain your process.” Her eyes hover over to Cordelia, shooting a guilty look in her direction. Man, if Marie gave her any more looks like that, Cordelia wouldn’t be able to hold her temper.  

“I have partners in the field, they know how to deconstruct any weapon. Of course, a mini-rainmaker would be something I could commission. I wouldn’t need to steal one when I have a team of engineers at my disposal.” He says with conviction. “What do you take me for, a thief?”

“No, but your privileged self has wound us in a lot of trouble. I’m sorry for your son, but if he’s our nation’s enemy, you understand why I can’t allow you to continue supporting the Octarians.”

“Let me handle him, please. I’ll talk to Fitz, just give me a chance to warn my son.” He pleads, but it falls on deaf ears. 

“No, you fail to understand what I’m asking. We cannot allow you any more contact with him.”

Her father’s eyes grow wide, clearly angry. “ _You are the one who fails to understand._ The turmoil they’re in, their world is _collapsing!”_

“Aleck, calm down.” Her mother puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Fitz has made his choice, there is nothing we can do.”

“Because he had _no other choice!_ He and the lad over here have been fighting to protect their home from decay. Our people won’t listen to their demands, and the Octarians have had enough. Who could blame them for this uprising?!” He scoots away from his wife’s comfort as he takes a stand. “I’m not saying free me from my sins, but what I am asking is, is that we don’t condemn the Octarians for our negligence.”

“So you’d rather the lives of Inklings become worthless, in defence of the Octarians?” Marie challenges him on purpose. 

“Of course not! But negotiations were tried, and nothing has worked. Inklings will only listen to force, and I’m not going to pretend that the Octarians don’t deserve a fair chance.”

“You really believe that this is the only way?” Marie sounds disgusted. “Having our people murdered by drones?”

“I didn’t know about them until Cordelia informed me.” He grimaces.

“And yet you still side with the Octarians.” Marie’s annoyed. “Even at the risk of dooming our people, which _we_ are sworn to protect. They kidnapped Callie, _brainwashed her_. My cousin almost _killed_ your daughter! And you still have the gall to defend their practices?” Cordelia sees the flash of guilt that crosses Callie’s face as she stares at her knees.

“Do not question my loyalty to my family.” He growls. “I will do anything to protect them.”

 _I know you would, which, is why we’re in this mess,_ is what Cordelia knows that Marie wants to say. Instead, the silver haired inkling replies, “You could be tried for this.”

Cordelia freezes—she knew this was a possibility. But to hear it spoken in this way, by Marie of the Agents… _God…_ She turns to the Octoling, his eyes are glancing between her father and Marie.

Merise speaks up, “No, you can’t try him.” Her green eyes are glossy, emanating panic. “He’s only trying to protect his son.”

Cordelia’s too panicked to speak, the nerves return, mixed with anger. Her stupid big mouth caused all of this, and now her family was going to pay for her haste. The Octoling senses that she’s in distress, and wraps a comforting arm around her. Callie notices the contact and breaks the argument between Marie and her parents.  

“Cordelia? What do you think—you know both sides quite well.” Her comforting voice reaches her ears. “I want to know what your Octoling friend thinks of all of this— _we_ hardly had a chance to get to know his thoughts.”

Cordelia turns to the Octoling. <They want to know your thoughts on the war since you were readying yourself for it.>

He frowns, heavily. <What do they want to do to your father?>

<I wish I knew.> Her voice is meek, quiet. <Maybe if you could provide some insight, it might help his case.>

<There’s nothing I can say that the Agents don’t already know.> He frowns. <All I know is that I’m not safe there, and I’m not sure if I’m safe here either. I thought I wanted to stop the drones, but at what cost? Neither side wants me.> He says as his hand tightly holds hers.  

If Cordelia could chance a hug, she would. But she had to be professional. She angles her head towards the Agents. “He’s got mixed feelings.”

“Mhmm,” Marie says unconvincingly.

“What do you mean, _mhmm?”_  

“You know what I’m referring to.” Marie frowns.

 _“Don’t.”_ Callie warns. “It’s a stressful situation here—the two of you don’t need to be fighting on top of it all.” Callie was right. Even if Cordelia had the chance to, yelling at Marie wasn’t going to get them anywhere. She had to play it cool—Marie was under jurisdiction to charge her father for a war crime. God dammit.

“I don’t remember everything while I was brainwashed, but Mr. Firthe is right. Conditions down below are deteriorating at a fast rate, and the Octarians are getting restless. I’m not saying that we should forgive him, but we shouldn’t crucify him either. Maybe give him a light sentance while he’s under investigation—or until we have the clearance that the war will cease.”

“You’re right.” Marie speaks sympathetically. 

“Look, don’t take it out on Cordelia. All of this is my fault.” He speaks softly. “I know what I did is wrong in your eyes, but it’s not in mine. I’d do anything for my family, as I said.” He solely looks at Cordelia. “Which means, if I have to be turned in, then I must.”

“…No.” Marie sighs. “I’ll place you under house arrest—you can’t leave the manor until further notice. Instate your vice president to take over operations in your absence. If I drag your name into the light—Cordelia’s name will be tarnished. She’s done too much for Inkopolis to deliver that kind of reward.”

Cordelia’s surprised, yet touched by the silver haired Inkling’s actions. Either that, or she was making an on-the-spot excuse to relieve tensions for the time being. Either way, Cordelia appreciated it.  

“However, this also means that we need to see what you’ve been up to, and redeem control of any weapons you may have built within the time of operations.”

Her father crinkles his face in disgust. “You’re making a big mistake, Agent 2. Those Octolings need help—we can’t keep turning them away.”

“We’ll look into the conditions, and draft up a proposal. In the meantime, _you_ need to stay out of it. If not for your own sake, for Cordelia’s.”

“It won’t work. I’ve already tried that!”

“Please don’t argue with her Mr. Firthe. This is the best we can do under the current circumstances.” Callie’s sombre tone gets through to her stubborn father. He bows his head in defeat as her mother puts a comforting arm around his waist. She can hear her mother whisper that they’ll get through this mess, but he’d have to let go of his brash behaviour. She sees that he nods his head, but that deep frown of his doesn’t leave his face.

“Speaking of which, do you all mind if I talk to Cordelia in private for a little bit?” Callie perks up.

“That should be fine.” Her mother gives Callie a curious look.“What’s the matter?” 

“It’s something I’d like to discuss in private.”

Cordelia goes to leave, but the Octoling has a firm grip on her, preventing her from standing up.

<Agent 1 needs to talk to me, you _have_ to let go. >

<Don’t leave me here with them.> The Octoling speaks nervously.

<This is important!> Cordelia says impatiently but stops when her father speaks in the Octoling’s native tongue.

<Let her go, lad. You’re safe as long as I’m around.> The tone he uses with the Octoling is the same as he had used on her when she was a small child. It was a sweet gesture, despite the chaos that was circling them.

He doesn’t respond in words, only in his actions as he releases Cordelia from his grasp. She gently pats his hand, carefully getting up from the ornate couch, soon following Callie into the bedroom where she and the Octoling were moments before. Cordelia closes the door behind her. 

“This isn’t easy to say, but there was no way I could say this in front of your dad.” Callie begins. “We’ve been tipped by the Special Forces Unit that any Octolings that are …stateless, per se, might be thrown out of Inkopolis—which, will pose as a concern for your Octoling friend. Especially if he was exiled from Octo Canyon, that’s going to put him in a rough spot.” Callie speaks softly. “Cordelia, I know the initial plan was to stay undercover when you were investigating your father, but, marrying him might help keep him safe. If he’s legally a member of your influential family, it’ll be enough to secure him here in Inkopolis when the state starts surveying their residents.

Cordelia isn’t surprised by Callie’s request. Her father said the same thing this morning.

“You think that’s my best move?” Cordelia asks, willing to hear her out.

“It’s no guarantee, but I feel that’s the best way to protect him. You know we don’t have a lot of time left, and this might be our best bet. And, the two of you are obviously compatible, even if he is peculiar.” She adds.

“I’m not against it, but I don’t know if he’d be willing to do it—especially after the stunt I pulled.” Cordelia looks at her bare feet, noticing the nail on her upper toe is chipped—that was likely from the beach excursion the night they snuck out of the manor—when things were actually quite nice. “I’m sure Marie filled you in.”

“She …did, yes.” Callie’s discomfort speaks volumes. “Don’t get me wrong, if it’s not the right move for you I get it ...maybe we can convince the unit to pass him as a special circumstance. He did get exiled, but… oh, wait, he _did_ try to blow up a research facility…”

Cordelia remembers the promise she made to herself, she would do anything to keep him safe. _Anything_. What was another fake marriage? If it meant keeping him out of the arms of the law, of course, she’d agree. The hard part would be getting him to.

“If it needs to be done, I’ll do it.” Cordelia takes a deep breath. “I just want him to be safe.”

“That’s the spirit.” Callie warmly smiles when she opens the door, waving the curious Octoling in. He glares at Callie as she quickly takes her leave.

<What did she say?> His first words are immediate as she closes the oak door.

<She warned me of some …challenges that the Octolings above ground would face.> Cordelia frowns. <I’m not sure how to broach this subject with you, but …your safety is finite. Unless… well, _there is a way_. > Her voice grows shaky. <I know I screwed up, and I’m sorry, and I understand if you don’t want to do this …you didn’t last time, and now I’m not sure if it’s even worth asking because I know what you’re going to say.> God, why was she getting so _flustered?!_

<What are you asking me?> He asks with great confusion on his face.

Cordelia lets out an accidental gulp. <I’m asking you to … _marry me_ … _again. >_

The Octoling blankly stares at her. Cordelia’s tempted to shield her eyes but remains stoic. Her heart pounds against her chest as she tries to read for an emotion. The challenging part was, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

<I don’t understand.> He says after a minute of silence passes between them.

<You said it yourself—my family could protect you, you couldn’t go home, and… _god_ , why do I have to explain this?> She moans, frustration and embarrassment growing with every breath.  

<I’m not going to accept. This is my problem, not yours.>

It was a kind, considerate response. But, it wasn’t good enough for Cordelia. His safety was at stake, and even now, all he considered were her feelings.

<It is for me.> She encourages him to sit on the bed, clasping his hand as she joins him. <You don’t understand how serious this is—our officials are relentless, and even the Agents can’t do anything about it. Giving you special clearance would be difficult, considering that you’re likely caught on surveillance trying to disrupt a facility.> Cordelia grows frustrated as she speaks. <What other choice is there?>

<It’s fake… A fake marriage could never do me justice, Cordelia. If I do this, I want it to be real.>

A part of her _knew_ he would say that. Cordelia swallows her fear.

<Radjerd.> The sound of his name catches his full attention, just like she knew it would. <Let me do this for you.> She squeezes his hand.

< I don’t think you understand what I’m asking for.>

<I do. If you were deported, I would have wished that I’d have asked you. Yes, it’s been two weeks and my mind is screaming at me that I’m foolish, but I don’t care. If you want this to be for real, then …you know what, let’s give this a shot. If we really can’t stand each other at the end of the war, then the two of us can part ways. There’s no shame in that.>

<Marriage isn’t something to be taken lightly, Cordelia.> He frowns. <But, I know that this is the best you can offer me.>

<So you agree to it?> Cordelia says, the desperate tone in her voice amplifies.

<Under two conditions.> He crosses his arms, lowering his brows.

<And those are?>

<One. You will be honest with me about everything—especially about what’s troubling you. I’m not going through a repeat of _yesterday_. >

Cordelia knows that’ll be a challenge for her, but she’s willing to agree to this term. <Okay, I will. What’s the second condition?>

<Tell me why you were so volatile to me last night. I need to know.>

That was fair… She takes a deep breath. <While I was looking for evidence against my father …I discovered I had a half-brother. My father had never let on that I wasn’t his only child. I’m still mad about it, but what can I do? This entire family is a mess.> Cordelia does her best to stay on topic. <He’s also …the Octarian General who banned you from Octo Canyon.>

<I thought that your father looked familiar …but this, I would have never imagined.> She can tell her answer upsets him. <He’s an absolute bastard.>

In every sense of the word, Cordelia surmises.

<It still hasn’t fully sunk in. I’m sorry I took it out on you.>

<I get it, but, I think your father had his reason for keeping it a secret.> He says offhandedly. <It must have been painful for him to see what his son had turned into.>

Cordelia admires the empathy he shows for her father.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

<What is it?>

<Are you _absolutely_ sure about this? I can’t go into a marriage for fear that you’ll regret it the next day, week, or even year. Is there any chance at all that you love me?>

Cordelia would have found any excuse to deny his claim, but her actions prove that she’s serious about him. Maybe it’s not the kind of love that she thought she had to feel, but there was certainly a strong feeling she possessed. Maybe in her own way, this _was_ love.

<If I didn’t, why would I do this?> It’s the closest answer she can find that represents her truth.

That seems to be a good enough answer for him, as he pulls her into a hug. Maybe it was nonsensical, but the two have experienced more in the last two weeks than most couples had in a lifetime.

Maybe …this would work after all.

<I promise you won’t come to regret this.> He sighs in relief.  

Cordelia takes a deep breath. If she didn’t offer this option, she’d have felt a heck of a lot worse.

<Shall we tell them the news then?> She looks at his beaming face, inching away from him.

He refuses to let go, his emotion bursting from his demeanour.

<We’re on a time limit here, how about we do this later?> She chuckles a bit, as he listens, easing off of her. <We need to plan accordingly.>

He gives her a frown, but it doesn’t last for long. She eases off the mattress, reaching for the brass handle. The Octoling follows, his body language a lot more confident than it had been prior to their conversation. All four residents in the room give the two their full attention.

Cordelia claps her hands together. “We decided that we’re going to get married."

Her father’s previous look of distress melts as his eyes grow wide in approval. The Agents have mixed expressions, but Callie’s is more of a smile, while her mother looks contemplative.

Her father can barely contain his excitement when he stands up, scooping his daughter into a strong hug, following up with a strong handshake for the Octoling.

“I-I see…” Her mother says with an uncertainty to her voice. “And you’re sure about this?”

“Yes.” Cordelia nods softly. “I am.”

“A congratulations are in order, then.” She still seems weary of the arrangement, but knowing her mother, she would press onwards with her plan, like she always did. “Although, that will raise suspicion since I did cancel the engagement party.” She taps a finger on her chin as she contemplates her next actions.

“It could always be one of those engagement parties that turn into a surprise wedding.” Callie raises a finger. “I saw it in a movie once. It was quite romantic—and the audience seemed to love it.”

“Yes… that might actually work.” Her mother nods while her father’s demeanour has completely changed from before, as he chats away with the Octoling, animatedly. She can see Marie’s crossed arms, with a focused look. Well, it was better than the glower that she received earlier.

“Cordelia, what are your thoughts—I think having the wedding sooner rather than later would be preferred.” Callie waves her hand to catch the buttermilk haired Inkling’s attention. To be entirely honest, Cordelia had tuned them both out.

“Sorry, what was that again?”

“Now is not the time to be spacing out.” Her mother warns, “We need you one hundred percent focused.”

“We were thinking about having the engagement party, _then_ reveal a surprise wedding near the end. It won’t be as fancy, but you don’t strike me to be the fancy wedding type, no offence.” Callie grins awkwardly.

“I would like my daughter to have a proper wedding—not some façade of an experience. However, I suppose this is the best we can do.” She hums to herself. “It would make up for the cancellation notices.”

“You mean, like in a couple of days soon?” Cordelia gulps. She knew the wedding had to be soon but to have it _this_ soon would have been asking for too much.

“Cordelia, if this is a wedding, it will take more than a week to prepare. Tell your _…fiancé_ to brush up on his Inklish, it’ll make him sound less suspicious. Meanwhile, I’ll call for the minister, and get some white lily bouquets—those are still your favourite flower, right?”

“Yes.” She says, sighing in relief. Okay, she had at least a week to get used to the idea.

“Can I help?” Callie says, sparkly-eyed. Of course, she would be the type to like weddings. “I’ve watched a ton of tv shows, and I feel like my expertise would come in handy—”

“Callie, we still have to find Pearl. You don’t have time for trivialities when the girl could be in great danger.” Marie frowns heavily. “Because of this incident, I had to be called back. The _minute_ we’re done, I have to focus on locating her. Marina’s worried sick.”

“No, you’re right.” Callie lowers her head. “I guess you’re on your own here, Corlie.” She covers her mouth the minute she says that _horrid_ nickname, but Cordelia lets it slide.

That awful nickname was the _least_ of her problems. She had a wedding to plan for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy September! It's hard to believe we're here already! 
> 
> Wow, it's been a great two weeks off but now I'm back in the grind. And heck, it's good to be back! I hope the wait wasn't too bad. If you weren't able to catch the Freydis short story last week, feel free to read it [here](http://bit.ly/2MkFQxw) on the My Lie to Keep Discord. In my opinion, it's one of my best works yet. 
> 
> I hope all of you have a great start to the month! I know I will enjoy it. 
> 
> Rose


	35. Chapter 35

Cordelia had two full weeks to reflect on her decision, which, if thought about long enough, reality would have settled in. But, she was far too busy dealing with particular members of her household to be concerned with anything as trivial as that… Her mother was dealing with the logistics of the supposed “engagement turned wedding party” that would have Cordelia spinning on her head. Getting married so fast—god, not this again. She was doing this  _to keep him here_  in Inkopolis, not have him tousled should the authorities get their hands on him. Due to her stress, she had kept the Octoling at bay, despite his advances. However, that wasn’t even the most stressful bit.

Her father had not taken his house arrest well.

It was like corralling a beast, which was quite unusual for Cordelia to witness when it concerned her cooler tempered father. Desperation fuelled the man’s actions. He had usually been a solid pillar of composure …but in this case, he had been a tyrant to deal with. The Octoling was the only one who could calm him down—which, might have been because he wasn’t a direct part of the family. Especially in the first week. It felt like a completely different time period since the proposal, and now, Cordelia isn’t sure if it was the  _best_ idea—being trapped in this house with her parents in this state. Her mother was starting to lose focus, dealing with her stressed and panicked husband, while attempting to put together a seemingly large engagement party meant that Cordelia was expected to tend to the older Inkling man. More often than not, he begged her to talk to the Agents and convince them to warn the Octarian General. He even tried sneaking out but was caught in the act. Cordelia felt terrible watching her father lose his mind like this.  

He never tried any aggression tactics on her. She was his daughter after all. A daughter who needed him to behave. Seeing her father this …broken, it made her heart hurt. Despite his previous actions, his secrets, she felt for him. He didn’t make the best choices, but he was still her dad.

The Octoling had Inklish lessons done by one of Inkopolis’ most astute tutors. As a result, he could speak basic conversational pieces, but not enough to have an in-depth conversation. He spent most of his time learning the language—his determination was admirable, to say the least. She could see that he had really been trying—if she had to guess, to ensure that Cordelia would be pleased with him. His dedication was true, he did his best to ensure his end of the bargain—that she wouldn’t regret being his wife. Yet, her fickle nature would kick in again and she’d find some excuse to avoid him. It was a wonder that she could put up a front, being affectionate with him at the dinner table, yet behind closed doors—well, she ensured her schedule didn’t permit that. It was a marvel how he didn’t confront her sooner. He understood that she had a list of tasks on her plate—she was instructed to pick out decorations and go through with yet  _another_  dress fitting. What was wrong with the dress that she was fitted for before? Her mother insisted that she needed a proper dress, not a casual one. The one Cordelia and her mother compromised on was quite gorgeous in her opinion, but she was nervous that it would have been a poorly planned affair. She wanted some believability with the purpose of this event—Cordelia had to fight to keep her new dress from being white. It was glamorous. A tight soft green corset that accentuated the curves she had, pushing her up in all the right places. Hooped sleeves draped along her arms, as the layers of fabric flared out at her waist, silky shades of green draped around her legs. It was obvious that it was an expensive make. It was the perfect wedding dress,  _her_ wedding dress.

Cordelia’s thoughts linger as she lies in bed, her eyes trailing the curved architecture of her ceiling. The last two weeks had been a rush of activity; she hardly had the chance to breathe. Her only method of solace was Noralyn, texting the young inkling mother had been her reprieve throughout this stressful time. It was helpful to have little conversations with someone who wasn’t directly involved in the drama.  

Her head spins when she realizes that tomorrow was the big day. Her engagement party turned wedding façade—or not, as the Octoling gleefully reminded her in his newfound Inklish.

Cordelia rolls out of bed, taking a much-needed deep breath. Her nerves were on  _fire_ this morning—there was no guesswork as to why that could have been. Cordelia shakes her head, catching herself from sliding down the covers. She shakes it off, scuffling to her closet. How thankful she was that most of her closet dresses still fit. However, there was one dress her eyes dwelled upon. Today she opted to go with the dress that was originally designed for the engagement party—a satin blue dress with embroidered flowers down the skirt, the cinched waist helped give off the illusion of a proper hourglass figure. She ties her hair back in her signature bun before she slips the dress over herself—no need to worry about a bra this time as the dress gave her a natural lift. She slips on a pair of fancy white panties underneath, noting how soft the material felt against her skin. It was almost as if her body was sensitive to the fabrics—or, she simply developed an appreciation for them.

What she doesn’t expect; the Octoling right outside her door when she opens it. He stares at her with warm eyes when he speaks,

“Hello.”

She couldn’t help but smile. His accent was so darn endearing.

<You don’t have to speak Inklish around me.> She withholds a laugh; she didn’t want him to be self-conscious of his speech.

<Cordelia, you’ve been avoiding me.> He frowns. I’ve tried to see you after hours, but you locked your window. You promised me that you weren’t going to hide shit from me anymore.>

Remaining calm, she invites the Octoling into her room—there was no point to hide her feelings, especially when he had called her out. <Yes, I’m nervous. I get that you Octolings pride yourselves in going fast, but if it weren’t—> She wasn’t going to freely admit that she was doing this just to keep him out of the law’s hands—even if it was more or less the truth. It wasn’t easy, but she had to admit how she felt …and what a better time to do this than before the wedding? <What I mean is, I’m terrified.>

The Octoling sighs heavily, <I’m foolish to think you’re doing this because you  _legitimately_  want to marry me. I know what you said before, but I can tell a fib when I see it.> He sulks. <I get that we’re busy with planning, and keeping your father from losing his mind but… If you’re going to regret this decision, I’ll chance getting caught by the authorities.>

<It’s not.> Cordelia weakly smiles. <I never saw myself to be the type to get married, and I prided myself on the idea of it staying that way. And, if you want me to be honest …yes, it’s because I want to keep you away from whoever could end up knocking on our doors. Maybe it’s not a  _real_  marriage, but it’s the best I can do for you.>

His deep frown is understandable. <I get it, although it’s disappointing to hear. I knew that’s how you felt—and I appreciate what you’re doing for me.> He inches away a little bit.

A pang hits Cordelia’s gut. <Hey, we’re still dating you know. It’s not like I’m repulsed by you.>

He leans upward, smiling a bit. <Yeah, I suppose you’re right. And, we  _will_  have some time in our new—> He corrects himself, much to Cordelia’s confusion. <I guess what I mean is that, in my culture, we don’t waste time because we don’t know how long we have left in the environment that we live in. The rate of decay skyrockets every year, and if we find someone who’s worth it, we just go all in. We don’t have the luxury of waiting like you Inklings do. But …I do realize that this is selfish to say, but integration into your family is the safest bet for me as well.>

It was nice to hear him admit that he too would benefit from this arrangement—even after admitting he’d risk his chances if she was starting to have regrets. Cordelia couldn’t lie—the pressure of a mostly fake marriage did put a damper on things. She didn’t mean to be a buzzkill.

<You haven’t forgotten about today’s beach house showing, have you?>

<Of course not.>

She had completely forgotten.

It was a beautiful show home that showcased a lovely beach front. Cordelia saw it in the home catalogue and immediately wanted the home for herself. The Octoling had liked it too and instantly agreed that he wanted to check it out. Her father had shown his regrets for not being able to attend, but naturally, he couldn’t go. She feels foolish for briefly forgetting about it—it was the one thing she was looking forward to all week.

Cordelia jumps when she hears her phone violently vibrate on her vanity… A call? From who? Cordelia eyes her phone with annoyance as she looks at the caller I.D.

_Mariner, Noralyn._

Surprised, Cordelia answers the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi there!” The orange haired Inkling speaks animatedly. “I’m sorry to call you without warning, but I had to congratulate you myself on your engagement. I thought the two of you were  _destined_  to be a couple, and I was right!” She can barely hear Noralyn’s voice behind the screeching of the presumed Inkling toddler in the background. Normally, it would have annoyed Cordelia but she found herself oddly patient with the interference. “I just got my invitation yesterday, but I couldn’t just text you. This was something I had to say at least over a call.” She briefly pauses. “I’m trying to find a babysitter for tomorrow, but no luck as of yet. If I had to bring Landon, would you kill me?”

“I don’t think it’s …appropriate, given that there will be alcohol served,” Cordelia says, trying to find an excuse. It might have not been  _her_  ideal wedding, but heck if it was going to be ruined by some toddler who didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut, she would have been greatly disappointed.

“Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, he wouldn’t be allowed to come. That’s okay though, maybe I can convince my sister to watch him for the night—geez, why didn’t I think of this before—she’d love to watch my little guy. Oh, shoot. Am I rambling? Cordelia, I am  _so_  sorry. I’ve been stressed, please forgive me.”

On a different level, Cordelia can totally relate. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I appreciate your understanding—I’ve been so looking forward to a day out tomorrow with Otis, the two of us are so busy nowadays that it’ll be a nice treat.” She can hear the hint of emotion in the Inkling’s voice. “And I’m so darn excited about it. I’m hoping my dress still fits—it’s been so long since I wore something nice.”

Cordelia isn’t sure what to say to the orange haired Inkling. It was obvious that she was nervous by the way she was handling herself. It was understandable—Cordelia couldn’t imagine what life would be like if she were in Noralyn’s shoes. She got shudders just imagining it. If that was her kid, he would  _not_  be allowed to make such a fuss.

“Anyways, I wanted to say thank you, and we’ll be there at 5 pm sharp,  _without_ Landon, don’t worry.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Cordelia hangs up, staring at her phone. Regret fills her chest briefly, she didn’t have many friends. Even if this wasn’t  _technically_  her dream wedding, it would have been nice to have the support of comrades. But, Cordelia had only herself to blame. If she wasn’t such a bitch in the past…

<Who was that?> The Octoling pipes up.

<Noralyn.>

<I remember her—she’s coming tomorrow, right?> He beams.

<Of course she is.> Cordelia crosses her arms. <And Otis will also be there—remember to behave yourself. He  _knows_  you.>

<Otis…> He ponders briefly. <Oh, yes. We used to be in the same regiment.>

<Exactly, which is why I asked you to behave yourself.>

<But how did you meet him?>

<I thought I told you, I met him in the research facility—did I not?>

He frowns. <Honestly, I’m not sure if you did.> He changes the subject. <By the way, your parents are driving me nuts. I tried talking to your mom in Inklish, and I feel like she’s just  _judging_  me the entire time.>

<That’s about normal.> Cordelia shrugs.

<Which is  _why_  I came upstairs. I needed some reprieve.> He sighs. <Your dad is even worse. He’s telling me about all the plans he could concoct, and if I’d be willing to help him escape.>

Oh, Cordelia knows. If it weren’t’ for the wedding, her father would have lost his mind. The Agents ensured they wouldn’t harm The Octarian General… but that didn’t quell her father’s worries and concerns. And, he wasn’t wrong about the decay of Octo Canyon.

Cordelia takes a deep sigh as slight hunger pangs distract her from her current predicament.

<I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I promise it won’t always be like this.> Or, at least she can hope. Falling into old habits was  _not_  how she wanted to start this new arrangement.

The frown on his face hints that he doesn’t believe her, which, just makes Cordelia feel worse.

<It’s about time to eat, I should head downstairs. You should come.> She nods to the Octoling, wishing for him to follow her lead. He follows her down the stairs as they make their way to the dining room. Something peculiar hits Cordelia’s nose when she enters. It’s not the food per se, but an unusual smell that perks her interest …and not in a pleasant way. She pulls a face, recoiling at the smell. Her mother sits at the table, eating silently as she raises her chin.

Cordelia takes her seat and examines the plate. A simple salad with lemon tea was served—which was alright for Cordelia. Her nerves had been so worked up that her appetite was lacking—but it caught up this morning. She was devouring her food.

“Cordelia, please. Why are you wearing such an expensive garment for your outing? No one likes a show-off.”

“Because this dress is pretty—and it deserves to be worn.” Cordelia snaps back.

Her mother definitely takes notice of her tone. “What’s the matter with you? I thought you were looking forward to the showing today?”

“I’m fine. I was just thinking about tomorrow was all.”

She hears the Octoling’s footsteps as he takes a seat beside her.

“Everything has been set in motion. According to the timetable, you and Radjerd will be married at 5:15 pm tomorrow evening.”

Her stomach halts; nerves shoot her like wildfire.

“Oh.” Cordelia pauses. She remembers that their rehearsal had stated the time…but…to think of it as tomorrow?! No… She has to remain calm. She can’t let the Octoling know that she was this nervous about tomorrow.

“It’s normal to have nerves the day before—don’t focus on the  _marriage_  aspect.” She eyes the Octoling sitting across from her. “He seems to be respectable with his Inklish—we had a decent conversation this morning, despite the broken nature of his tongue. Such is natural with a beginner, I suppose.”

<I don’t get what she’s saying. She’s speaking too fast—that’s her problem. How does she expect me to understand her when she speaks so god damn fast.>

<Ssh!> Cordelia hushes him. She turns to her mother. “You’re talking too fast. The Octoling can’t understand you.”

“Oh for god’s sake Cordelia, call him by his proper name. He’s going to be your husband by tomorrow evening.”  She frowns.

“Fine… Radjerd doesn’t understand you. Can’t you speak slower?”

Her mother rolls her eyes. “He’s not meant to understand every word I say, just enough to prove that he’s culturally capable of integrating into our society.” She lets out a sigh, but her attention is drawn to the man entering the room. “Aleck, come join us.”

He nods, with deep circles under his eyes as he sits down beside the Octoling, carefully picking up the salad bowl. He waits until he’s finished before addressing the Octoling in his tongue.

<I deeply regret that I can’t come along to the showing, lad.> Her father sorrowfully laments. <As we all know, I’m forbidden to leave the house.>

Her mother crosses her arms in what looks to be disappointment, like she understands what her father is saying. But, Cordelia remembers that her mother is smart. She can understand language just by tongue alone—except when it came to the Octoling.

Cordelia takes a sip of her tea as she listens to the two communicate. Maybe in another reality, her father wouldn’t have been a criminal, and tomorrow would have been her  _real_ wedding... 

 

Glen pulls into the U-shaped driveway. Cordelia straightens up her dress as she steps outside, brushing off any creases that would have shown on the dress. She eyes the mahogany painted building; the entryway’s grand pillars showcase its three-floored structure. The shrubs line elegantly against the large windows, giving a glimpse of the modern furniture inside. The way they reflected the sunset was beautiful. Cordelia’s heart  _flutters_  when she enters the home, surprised to see it’s unlocked. She doesn’t notice the wink given to the Octoling, as Glen takes his leave.

<I can’t believe this place.” She speaks when she steps upon the white oak floors of the open concept living room. To her right was a grand staircase that leads to the second floor. The kitchen laid ahead, which was easily the centrepiece of this house. <This place is amazing. You can see the ocean right from the big kitchen window.>

The Octoling wraps an arm around Cordelia’s shoulders as he leads her up the stairwell, passing three grand oak doors in her midst. He leads her to the two-door room at the end of the hallway, as he encourages her to open them.

She couldn’t believe her eyes.

A king sized canopy bed with dress pillows propped against the ornate headboard, silk sheets line the furniture beautifully. The windows to her left faced the oceanfront; a balcony was attached to the main wall. Cordelia gasps; she couldn’t believe it!

<Oh my god, I’m absolutely in love with this place!>

The Octoling smiles when he leans Cordelia against the chocolate coloured wall. Her steel blue eyes widen in surprise when he says, <I’m glad you like it because we already signed for this place—it’s already ours.>

<But I didn’t sign for it!> She balks.

<You forget, we’re going to be married tomorrow.> He closes the door behind him. <Your father  _technically_  bought this house in my name—but I rest assured him I’d pay him back. I want this home to be  _ours_ , Cordelia. I remember what you said to me this morning.> The Octoling pulls her closer to his chest. <I’m nervous as hell, too. We don’t know what’s going to happen, but… I know that I want you to be there to face it with me.>

Cordelia smiles, feeling comfort in his arms. She reminds herself it’s moments like this that remind her that she made the right decision.

<It’s a bit nervewracking to think, but I agree.> She smiles, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. If her past self saw how she was acting now …to hell with what her past self.

The grip on her back as he whispers, <Now that we’re  _finally_  alone…> His breathless tone excites her. His eyes radiate warmth when he leans in. <Since you asked me to marry you following your customs, it’s fair that I get to follow mine.>

Cordelia raises a brow.

<In our tradition, we mark our partners to be.> He whispers along her lips. God, she remembers Freydis mentioning this very thing, but she can’t recall anything that the Elite had said. Dammit, and here she was, ripe for the taking. It wouldn’t offend him if she asked, would it?

<What does that mean?> Cordelia asks nervously.

<It makes the recipient feel exceptionally good.> He purrs as he leans closer to her, his fingers instantly pulling at her lace underwear while undoing his trousers with his free hand. Losing patience, he yanks them down her thigh. Cordelia feels her cheeks burn when he intrudes her space, but she positions herself accordingly. He didn’t care that he dress was fancy, or, that he might ruin the materials, that much was obvious to Cordelia. His lips overtake hers; his taste …sweeter than what she was used to. He pulls away briefly. <Is this okay?>

She assumes he means whatever this  _marking_  was. She takes a sharp breath before answering, <Yes.>

He overtakes her mouth, lifting her into the air. She clings to him with both legs as he holds her in position. How he could brace her with one arm was bewildering to her—and ever so satisfying. Her senses begin to swirl in a relaxed state—yet—every inch of her skin was sensitive to his touch. When he throws her on her back, parting her legs with his waist; she could barely comprehend the excitement she felt. She clasps her legs around him as he moves within her; she swears she can feel his heartbeat against her skin. If only she had known that it was an aphrodisiac, maybe she would have asked this of him sooner. Her inhibitions melt as her mouth lets out an instinctive groaning sound. The effect he was having on her was clearly contagious.  

<I want you naked.> His voice is soft, but Cordelia knows it’s an order. She’s more than happy to slide off her dress and comply—he pulls out, allowing Cordelia to comply with his demand. He wastes no time as he leans his back on the silken sheets below, encouraging Cordelia to lie on top of him. Her eyes sparkle when she reunites herself with him, a sharp squeal erupts from her lips—just from joining with him. She feels every inch of her pulse, and she wasn’t even close to reaching her limit.

<I’ve waited too damn long for this.> His breathed-out whisper is caught on the edge of Cordelia’s mouth as she instinctively raises and lowers her hips.  _< I want you to fuck me.>_

Whimpers draw from her mouth as she moves on top of him, massaging her insides with his warmth. God… This just  _couldn_ ’t be beaten. The pitch of his uncontrollable moans only heighten her sensitivity when he lets out a loud grunt; the pleasing burst of warmth encapsulates her—his pulse sends her immediately into bliss. She gasps as all senses are halted, except the drowning pleasure she feels as she gasps for air. Throwing her head back, she can feel her body perk up for a round two.

He throws her on her back, locating her spot with his tongue, her cheeks burn when the soft wet mound strokes her just right. His added hum of satisfaction vibrates through her—he was going to send her over the edge. It takes but three seconds to drive her into that place, as her high-pitched squeal would have likely been mistaken for pain, but it was far from it. She had never felt so carefree, feeling all her other insecurities and worries fade away. If this is what Freydis was referring to, Cordelia was not disappointed. This man could  _not_  beat his stride. No one could top this.

Cordelia, dazed from the interaction, lies back on the mattress. Her limbs are wobbly, and she can hardly process any thought—she feels drunk in the most pleasant of senses. It must have been because her feelings towards the Octoling were exemplified—was this a permanent effect of what happened moments before? She wasn’t sure  _what_  she had just allowed, but whatever it was, she would happily do it again.

Apparently, the same effect took place with the Octoling, for he clung to her—refusing to let go, kissing her gently on her neck.

<You gotta bottle that shit up and sell it.> Cordelia says breathlessly. <I've never felt this good in my life.> 

<No, it’s not for just  _anyone;_  only for the ones we love—> He pauses when he notices Cordelia’s not paying any mind to his words.

<So you said this place is already ours?> Cordelia ponders—it was a sizable four bedroom beach house. <You don’t think it’s a bit big to start off?> She grew up in a large manor, but she was used to her apartment. <Not that I don’t love it.>

<You chose this place, and, I think it’s perfect.> He leans her in closer. <It’s a great size for a small family.>

<We’ll get there.> Cordelia sighs before closing her eyes. She ignores the Octoling’s hint and snuggles herself against him. He could have said anything, and she wouldn’t have broken away from his grasp.

His voice was music to her ears.

 

Cordelia had felt oddly relaxed when waking up in their new master bedroom. It was barely morning, and the two had decided to stay where they were, snuggling until she fell back asleep. It was around 10 am when she arose again, the Octoling nudging her awake. She moans, hitting him off—her old feelings taking hold of her again. She looked at the time proper, urging the Octoling to rush back to the manor. She called her mother, apologizing for the delay. What she hadn’t realized was that their “union” would knock her out for at least twelve hours—that was the part he  _failed_  to mention. She would ask him about the logistics of what has happened to later, but they needed Glen to pick them up, and quickly! 

Cordelia spent the remainder of the morning preparing for the party ahead—checking RSVPs, helping her mother with the decorations (ugh, didn’t they have servants for this), and ensuring that her dress fit just right. Her mother had requested to be in the room with her when she tried on her final fitting. She hadn’t realized that her father would show up.

“You are stunning, absolutely stunning.” The older man’s face lightens up as he reaches for her hands. She accepts, feeling the pang of his compliment.

“Aleck, don’t ruin her dress.” Her mother refuses to leave the room.

“I’m allowed to give my daughter a hug on her wedding day.” He shakes his head, facing Cordelia. “Don’t mind your mother, she’s put a lot of work into today.”

“I know.” She steps off of the stool and pulls her father into a hug. “I appreciate you being on your best behaviour too. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“Cordelia, no matter what I do, I just want you to know that I love you.”

“I know you do.” She squeezes him harder. “Now you and Mom should go downstairs, our guests arrive soon and I still need to do my hair.”

“Don’t be quick to shoo me out of the room so fast.” Her mother’s pout turns into a frown. “I want a few words with Cordelia before we start with the guests.”

That makes Cordelia almost nervous. Her father nods before he steps out of the room, leaving her to stare at her mother in confusion.

A minute passes before her mother speaks.

“I just want you to know that I’m proud of how you handled yourself, Cordelia.” She places a gentle hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I truly hope this arrangement works out for you—it’s high time you deserved a break.” She softly wraps her arms around Cordelia, squeezing her gently. It’s strange …but heartwarming.

“I love you.” Her mother says in a calm, yet heartwarming tone.

Her eyes moisten the minute she says the words, “I love you too, Mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday (Or Monday)!
> 
> I want to be the first to say that I’m so grateful to all the wonderful artists that have drawn me fanart for MLTK. Seriously I’m blessed and I can’t thank you all enough.
> 
> Which is why I HAVE to show this piece off. Here is the lovely dress that Cordelia is wearing for her big moment—made by evieal herself. [Check it out here](http://gravityqueen.tumblr.com/post/177874269995/cordelia-belongs-to-thefictitiousscribbler-shes) and give her all the love. Seriously, this dress is absolutely amazing!
> 
> I would also like to announce that I’ll be starting a miniseries starring Cordelia and Radjerd in a whole new way (human fairytale AU anyone?) Part 1 is out, which you can find [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941636/chapters/37173443)
> 
> As for Cordelia, let’s hope she’s able to keep her cool in the next chapter. She will most definitely need it.


	36. Chapter 36

The lot had been decorated with white lilies, scattered across the foyer of the manor—by the request of Cordelia’s mother. To liven it up, she also took liberties to sprinkle the bouquet with purple orchids. They didn’t want to tip off any publicists that an actual wedding was going on. Since the wedding was to take place in the manor, it was a bit cramped, but, enough to garner a good audience. Her mother had hired some musician named Evie, who touted the violin—one of her mother’s favourite instruments. To know her by name, she must have been something special.

Cordelia tries to remember the steps they had done at the rehearsal. She was instructed to walk down the hall, leading down the one person staircase to the ballroom. Her father would have walked down with her, but, it wasn’t supposed to be a traditional wedding—the element of surprise would be key here. The Octoling would wait at the base of the stairwell, and he’d loop his arm in hers, and they’d walk to the centre stage; decorated in white lilies and purple orchids. There, they would speak their vows. Cordelia didn’t have her vows prepared—she was going to keep to what the minister suggested. All she knew of the Octoling’s vows, is that he was going to present them in Inklish.

Garbed in her gown, she stares into the mirror as the hairdressers finish their masterpiece. Pieces of her hair are tied in a bun, while the rest hangs loose at her side. The person staring back at her was unfamiliar. She looked like a princess. 

Her stomach drops. The nerves hit.

The engagement party began in five minutes. Her steel blue eyes scan the room nervously; she takes a hand to her stomach and takes a deep breath.  _Cordelia, calm down._ She reminds herself—she takes another deep breath. She refused to have a panic attack. She barely had time to philander.

She leaves her room, her heels create a soft clicking sound on the tile. She keeps her skirts lifted, taking deep breaths as she walks. She passes the large spanning foyer, proceeding to the hall of the ballroom.

On cue, she heard the violin start playing, soft tones filled her ears. She instructed that no wedding music be played, keep it low, and causal. That was for her own nerves, more than it was for anyone else. God, a  _wedding_. She was only nineteen for god’s sake. She prays that she’s not making the biggest mistake of her life.

Cordelia takes a deep breath, hearing the music deck the halls in all of its splendour, her dress swishing across the ground as she takes gentle steps. Cordelia hears the guests chattering away below as she approaches the stairs.

With her hand, she takes to the stairwell; all eyes upon her. The room grows silent, as the violin plays a soft melody—she walks down the stairs in careful consideration—she refuses to trip. As practiced, the Octoling waits at the bottom. His black suit flatters him well, slimming him in all the right areas. His tie matches the colour of her dress—a pale, yet vibrant green. He looks at her in dazzling awe as she takes his arm. He’s never smiled at her this sweetly.

Slow gasps and hushed whispers indicate that the guests have just clued into what was going on. Instinctively, she clings onto him. His arm gave her comfort; she was able to calm down. Taking another deep breath, she moves forward. The Inkling minister wears a sparkly pink sequined gown—she was advised to blend in with the audience.  

The music stops.

The room falls silent.

The minister speaks her practiced lines. Cordelia does her best to stay focused. Despite the lighting being minimal, she feels as if a spotlight has been dropped onto them. The minister turns to the couple, waiting to begin. 

The Octoling says nothing. The fear in his eyes as he looks at the guests before him; he’s got stage fright. He stutters, unable to keep three words together.

Cordelia calmly brushes his hand, attempting to comfort him. She vastly underestimated his confidence.

The minister begins; Cordelia's heart hammers against her chest. She feels constricted in her dress; perspiration lines her brow. When it's her turn to speak, she almost squeaks. All eyes were on her. Letting out a soft sigh, she turns to the Octoling. 

“I, Cordelia Felicity Merise Firthe…” She begins, deciding in this moment to deviate from the plan. She didn’t need to write them, sharing that in the short time they got to know each other, she discovered feelings that she didn’t know she possessed. If she were to marry anyone, it’d be him. Which, was the truth. Her nerves calm down when she finishes, his eyes never leave hers. Did he even know what she was saying? It was clear he didn’t, because a long pause enters between them before he speaks.

“Cordelia.” He says in an accented tone as he clasps her hands. “I love you. Marry me please.”

His tone is so sweet, so endearing, that she can hear soft audible  _aww’s_  from the crowd. Did he realize what he was saying? A stark blush crosses his cheeks—her heart beats nervously.

The minister while confused, hands them their rings, as the two follow her directions. Cordelia’s is a brilliant gold etched band, with green and purple stones laced all around the edge. The Octoling’s matches hers by design. She hadn’t seen the rings before now—they must have cost her parents a fortune—which wasn’t necessarily a shocker. Her mother had insisted that at least the rings be in proper order. His hands are shaking—which makes it hard to put his ring on securely. 

Cordelia’s eyes widen when the minister announces the two as husband and wife. He stares at her in confusion. Cordelia leans in, whispering in Octarian that they were officially married. He clues in scooping her up into a passionate kiss. She feels absolutely weightless in his arms as he holds her close—the guests applauding in approval.

<We’re not done yet, we have to sign the papers!> She laughs.

<Oh.> He says with an unrivalled happiness to his tone. <I can’t write in Inklish.>

<it doesn’t matter, all you have to do is sign your legal name.> She smiles. <But put me down first.>

<No, I won’t.> He grins happily.

<You need to—at least, for the time being.> She rolls her eyes, a smile flashes across her face.

He walks her over to the signing table, where the document resides. Both take their turns, Cordelia announcing her agreement to marry the Octoling, and he, agreeing to be announced as a Firthe.

<I can’t wait for us to move into our new home.> He whispers, wrapping an arm around her.  

Cordelia feels a twinge of excitement. <Can you do that thing you did last night?>

<What thing?> He asks, confused.

<You know …the  _marking_. > It’s awkward to say. <Whatever you did—I want you to do it again.>

<Gladly.> He purrs, leaning her into a kiss.

<I don’t mean right now! We have guests.> His kiss had this magical effect of calming her down. Was that because he had  _marked_  her the night before? She wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t complaining.

Two minutes pass and they are bombarded by Cordelia’s parents. Her father hugs Cordelia so tight, she can barely breathe. Cordelia notes the smell of wine on his breath—she curls her nose. It smells similar to what she had smelled in the hallway the day before. Afterwards, he gives the Octoling a  _welcome to the family_  handshake. Her mother wears a smile on her face.

“I wish you and Radjerd the best on your journey.” She speaks, before leaning her daughter into her embrace. “And if he becomes troublesome, just know my lawyer can break you free from your contract. It doesn’t matter that he has the house, I can get you a nicer one.”

Cordelia nervously laughs but appreciates her mother’s sentiment. “Thank you.” She whispers back.

“I never thought I’d see the day when you’d marry.” Her father chuckles. “I was half expecting you to get cold feet, or run away from the altar. Colour me surprised that you’re still here.  

“Come on.” Cordelia blushes, surprised at both of her parents’ twisted compliments. “You know why I’m doing this.”

“My girl, I’m hoping that it’s for love. I …know I’ve had my share of difficulties, but your mother and I want you to be happy. I hope you understand that.”

She couldn’t shake the strange feeling of doubt, but she did believe they meant it. Any amount of praise from her parents seemed …well, strange. She didn’t know how else to phrase it.

“Don’t mind him—you know what he’s like when he gets into the wine.” Her mother rolls her eyes.

Cordelia curls up her nose at the whiff of it on his breath. “Whatever you ordered, it smells horrid.” She crinkles her brows.

“I thought blueberry wine was your favourite?”  She ignores her mother’s words when she turns to the Octoling. It turns out he was in mid-conversation with the finely dressed Inkling in a gold sequined dress that slimmed her quite nicely. Her orange hair was tied in a braid falling down her shoulder. She looked gorgeous. It doesn’t take her long to identify the woman.  

<Cordelia!> Noralyn beams, grinning from ear to ear. <A surprise wedding—how unexpected! If I’ve known, I’d have brought a gift.>

<No need for that, honestly I have everything I could ever want.> Cordelia is only half kidding. <I’m happy to see that you’ve found a babysitter for Landon.>

<Yes, and my husband and I finally have time to ourselves. It’s delightful!> She lowers her voice. <Especially since we …well,  _plan_  to add to our family, so to speak.>

 _Another_ kid? Cordelia can’t hide her surprise. <Congrats …but, isn’t one enough?> Cordelia whispers. <I don’t mean to be rude, but…>

<I know, hard to believe—but my husband is pretty insistent.>

<Well what are your thoughts on the matter—surely you don’t plan on raising another child when your first is so rambunctious—shit—I mean!> Cordelia covers her mouth in surprise. <I didn’t mean for it to sound rude!>

<Don’t worry, I know Landon is quite a handful.> Her grin is wide. <I appreciate your concern, but I think this will be a good move for our family. It’s not like I’m going back to turf or anything…> Cordelia sees a shine to the Inkling woman’s eyes that wasn’t there before. Was she about to cry?

<You’re not sold on the idea, are you…?> She crosses her arms. <You want to go back to turf.>

<N-no, of course not. As my husband says, my family needs me at home. Besides, turf would take me out of the house and—oh god, Cordelia, this is not the time to discuss this. This is your wedding day, and that’s what we should focus on!>

Cordelia narrows her brows—she’s not satisfied with that change of subject. She sees Otis—who to be fair, looked quite strapping in his grey tuxedo—make his way to the girls. She needed to have a talk with him—pronto.

<Cordelia, it’s a pleasure to see you again!>

<Likewise.> Cordelia studies the way he interacts with his wife. She hears his hushed whisper—he’s scolding her for drinking the supplied wine, taking it out of her hand. The gesture was appalling, to say the least—especially after what she’s heard the orange haired Inkling say.

<I believe the lady can drink whatever she likes.> Cordelia challenges the taller, tank of a man. <It’s her first night away from her motherly duties, allow her to have some fun.>

He looks at the glass before he decides to hand it back to her. Noralyn’s brown eyes stare at Cordelia in admiration. A brief wall of sadness washes over the Inkling—she knew there was something to Otis that she couldn’t place. She didn’t know to what extent, but he was a true manipulator—especially in the home. Tomorrow, Cordelia would definitely contact the orange haired Inkling—maybe she could get her father to pull some strings and sponsor Noralyn for a comeback. She was wise enough not to interfere in their marriage, but she couldn’t let her new friend waste away her potential. If the child was a problem, a nanny would be more than suited while Noralyn went back into training.

<Hey.> She rests a hand on Noralyn’s shoulder. <If you have some time, let’s meet at the café sometime next week. I’d like to take you up on that coffee date.>

<I’d love that—if you don’t mind Landon’s company.>

<The kid’s fine.> Cordelia smiles. Little did she know it, but she was going to help Noralyn take back her turf dream. Noralyn takes a sip of her wine, complimenting the flavour. Cordelia shudders when she can smell it off of her breath.

<You look green—are you alright?>

Cordelia nods. <Of course!> She clears her throat—the whiff violating her nostrils. <The smell doesn’t agree with me.>

<That’s a shame, it’s delicious.> Noralyn frowns as she takes another sip.

<I think I need to step out for a moment, pardon me.> Cordelia pardons herself from the ballroom to get some fresh air. Why on earth did her mother order such rancid wine, and how was it that others could drink it  _without_  feeling the urge to vomit? Her father was already doused in the stuff—he’s been happier today than he had in weeks.

Cordelia heads from the ballroom to the main doors of the manor, stepping outside. The fresh beach air would help her feel better. She’s not surprised she feels unwell—she was accustomed to nausea when she was fraught with nerves. The sound of the waves calmed her stomach as she lifts her skirts, taking off her shoes to bring herself closer to the soft midnight waves. It isn’t until she hears a voice, soon followed by the smell of cold lemon tea.   

<This should calm your nerves.> His voice is unfamiliar, yet calm. <It must be stressful to get married under such pressure.>

<Thank you.> She speaks taking a sip of the drink. It was sweet, but had a tangy taste to it. She lowers the glass from her lips. Standing beside her is a familiar face, one she doesn’t recognize until it’s too late.

She drops her glass when he says,  _< No problem. Its what siblings do, after all.>_

***

Radjerd couldn’t believe it.

He was now a Firthe.

Standing before him was his father in law—despite his flaws, was a kind and caring man. He and Merise had taken great care stay around him—they must have sensed how nervous he was when he had exchanged vows with Cordelia. He couldn’t understand a thing the minister had said, despite all his tutoring. God, he was an idiot.

<Where did that girl rush off to in such a hurry?> Her father asks.

<It’s the wine. Cordelia really doesn’t like the smell.> Noralyn pipes in. <It tastes great.>  

<Agreed.> Aleck smiles in agreeance. <Maybe too great—I think I had too much of it.> A chuckle leaves his lips. <Not that I regret it—this is the most relaxed I had felt in weeks.>

He tells his wife what they have been discussing in Inklish. He can’t understand a lot, just a few current words. Merise looks slightly worried and leaves to presumably find her daughter.

<You know, I apologize for the hassle I’ve caused, lad. I know I’ve been a bear.> He chuckles nervously. <I hope the house can be of use to the two of you. I expect you to take care of my daughter—I know she’s a bit of a handful but that’s what you signed up for when you were given our family name. I like you a lot, but don’t think I won’t protect her from you if I have to.>

He can tell Aleck has had too much to drink. He's slurring his words. <You should sit down.>

<Nah, lad. I’m dandy. My daughter is married, you’re my son-in-law. Fate couldn’t be kinder to me today than it ever has been. Did you know Merise and I had been worried sick about Cordelia’s prospects? Today’s a blessing, it is!>

Radjerd leads the drunken man to one of the ornate couches resting by a tapestry. His cheeks flush before he leans against the armrest in a daze, but at least he’s quieted down.

<Hey, stranger!>

Radjerd turns around in surprise, that voice could only belong to one person. Her hair was pulled back, clipped with three seashell pearls. She’s dressed in an ankle length royal purple gown, exposing her toned shoulders beautifully. The bunched-up ruffles around her hips accentuate her natural curves.

Radjerd couldn’t believe his eyes.

<H-How!> is all the Octoling can say to his lifelong friend as he wraps his arms around her. <I’ve been worried about you.>

<I’m slightly offended that you didn’t invite me to your  _wedding!_ > She scolds. <Congratulations, my man!> She gives him a slap on the shoulder. <I never thought the Princess would go for it!>

<Freydis… you can’t be here.> He whispers under his breath. <I don’t know when, but there’s going to be an investigation on all Octolings that reside here in Inkopolis.> He puts an arm around her, leading the Elite out of sight. <It’s one of the reasons Cordelia asked me to marry her.>

<She asked you— _you—_ to marry  _her?_ You probably begged her to marry you and bribed her to tell everyone she was the one who proposed. Now tell me, what did you do to get her to make the biggest mistake of her life?>  

<That’s  _not_  what happened!> He pouts.

<I know, I know. God, you’re so easy to tease.> Her chuckle dies down. <I wish I was here under better circumstances, but there’s something I need to talk to you about.>

<What’s wrong?> The worry in his chest grows.

<Can we talk somewhere private?> She whispers.

Radjerd nods, excusing himself from the core group. He and Freydis continue their conversation by a nearby plant in the corner of the ballroom. Freydis clenches her gown. <The General is really riding on my ass. Apparently, the head of the Firthe household has stopped responding to his calls, so he sent me here to survey for information. He was acting like such a baby about it too. He demanded that I owed him a favour, and…> She pauses, swallowing hard. <He wanted me to kidnap Cordelia.>

<He  _what?! >_ Radjerd tenses in fear. <Aleck has been under house arrest for the last two weeks. He’s been forbidden to communicate with the outside world without supervision.>

<Which the General has noticed.> Freydis crosses her arms. I wouldn’t worry about Cordelia—you know I wouldn’t hurt her—especially to help the General’s petty agenda.> She shakes her head. <He’s obsessed with that man, I swear to god…>

<It’s because Aleck Firthe is his biological father.>

<Are you serious?> Freydis gasps. <So he wants to kidnap his own _sister_  …what a pathetic excuse for a man.>

<Not that I’m upset to see you Frey, but …why are you here? If you’re not here to harm Cordelia...?>

<Why am I here? To warn you …obviously.> She rolls her eyes. <And …I need a favour.>

<Which is?> Radjerd cocks his head.

<My husband and I need a place to stay—I refuse to kidnap Cordelia but that puts me at an awkward spot. The General is petty—he would make an example of me. I was honest with my husband and told him what happened. He agreed to pack his things, and we left Octo Valley.>

<What about your family?> Was the first thing Radjerd asked.

<After they found out what happened to you, they wanted me to flee as well— _because_ of my association to you.> Her frown is heavy. <My father told me that they’d be okay on their own, but…> She takes a deep breath. <This war—I thought it would help our cause.>

Radjerd nods. He once thought the same thing she did.  

<Where is your husband?>

<He’s here too—he’s got connections with a couple of officials here in Inkopolis, but I was hoping that  _maybe_  the two of you could help me out instead.>

<Freydis, I had to get  _married_  in order to live here without consequence.> He stresses. <Maybe the Agents could set you up in a safe house in the meantime—you’ve tipped us to what the Octarian General is up to, so I can’t see why they wouldn’t help you.>

<Thank you. I know I’m abandoning my people but.> She pauses, her sea blue eyes growing soft. <I’m expecting. I can’t let my child live in the underground while chaos is whirling about. I can’t risk it.>

<You’re kidding!> Is all Radjerd can say. Mixed feelings course through him—no, he had to keep focused.

<I know, it’s a shock—I didn’t expect it either. It just kind of happened.> She lowers her voice. <Don’t tell Melbourne, he’ll  _freak out_. >

<He doesn’t know?>

<No, because then he’d never let me leave his sight. He’ll know once I know I don’t have to fight.>

Radjerd is nervous about that sentiment, but Freydis is her own woman. He knows she wouldn’t risk the lives of everyone she loves, especially her child.

<I’d like to see our  _pretty pretty princess. >_ Freydis changes the subject, her mood visibly lighter. <Considering that the General thinks I’ll be stealing her away tonight, I can take my time and enjoy this celebration. I can’t wait to see the two of you dance together.> She nudges his shoulder. <Or do Inklings dislike dancing?>

<We'll be having our dance later.> Radjerd nods his head. <She should still be outside.>

She grins. <Then what are we waiting for? Now, let’s go meet Mrs. Laurius.>

<Firthe, actually. I’m a …Firthe.> He awkwardly grins.

<Ah… makes sense. Get those personal ties to the dynasty!> She pats him on the back. <She looked darling in that dress—a mighty fine package to unwrap if I do say so myself.> She nudges Radjerd—but his attention is on the panicked Merise who flies into the room; her face distraught.

Radjerd and Freydis immediately follow. Watching Aleck slowly drift off to immediately sober was a compelling sight. It looks like his stomach drops as he covers his face. Oh god… What’s happening? He rushes over to Cordelia’s parents, her mother fraught with tears.

<What the hell’s going on?>

Aleck didn’t need to finish his sentence before he fell to his knees. <My girl …she’s  _gone. >_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyhey! 
> 
> I'm doing a live Q&A this Thursday between 6-7pm Eastern Standard Time, and I'm taking questions in the [discord](http://bit.ly/2MkFQxw). There's a special channel just for questions, so make sure to check that out. Ask anything you want, even spoiler-ish questions. I'll do my best to answer them. See you there! 
> 
> I hope you're having a great September so far. I know I am. 
> 
> Talk soon!


	37. Chapter 37

Cordelia shivers, feeling a bit of a chill before she wakes up; the walls around her are white, clear, and sanitary. She lies in a single plush twin bed. She doesn’t recognize her surroundings— _but_  recalls who she last spoke to.

The Octarian General.

He had greeted her with a drink by the beach, a soft smile gracing his lips. Dressed in an unusually high fashioned tux, she almost mistook the man for her father—until he spoke. He had introduced himself to the buttermilk haired Inkling as her brother. Dread washed over her the minute he announced himself, as Cordelia recalls backing up instantly, but her vision became blurry before she crumbled to her knees. She was drunk, slow, easy to guide away from the party. Her instinct was to scream—but the will wasn’t there. Drowsiness soon followed before she lost all consciousness.

Cordelia shivers as she remains under her covers, feeling the hit of drowsiness. If the Octarian General  _kidnapped_  her, then there was no way that she wasn’t in Octo Canyon. A brief wave of panic surfaces in her gut as she grips the cotton bedsheets. She does some quick breathing to calm down; there was no sense in getting worked up—she had to have a clear head. They were …siblings, after all. Maybe she could strike him on a familiar chord.

Cordelia’s eyes widen when she accidentally bumps her left hand with her wrist. The cool sensation of the diamond encrusted band stirs an unwelcome feeling. Her eyes well up at the sight; her heart pangs for longing. Her marriage to the Octoling may have been a reckless action, but never in her life did she want to be in his arms more than she did now. Light-headedness set in quickly—she was stiff like she hadn’t moved in days. There was no doubt she was still in her gown—the silk fabric felt smooth along her legs. That bastard—he’d pay for what he did to her.

Slowly, she works up her muscles and takes small breaths. She moves her arms in a small circle before lifting herself out of her bed. Her teeth grit together when braces her palms against the mattress. She takes sharp, laboured breaths, gasping in relief when she sits herself up correctly. Next was her legs. To her surprise, once she pulled the covers off of her—moving was surprisingly easy—she was still in her wedding dress. She’s slightly relieved when she realizes that’s the case; the thought of that man undressing her sent shivers throughout her body. Taking one last step, Cordelia pats her feet on the cool concrete floor, bending her knees slowly as she keeps her hand secured around the wooden bed frame.

There. At least she can stand.

Cordelia braces a hand against the cool concrete wall as she clenches her skirt, a nasty bout of despair washes over her. How on earth was she going to escape? She barely had enough energy to stand on her own two feet! Her eyes scan the room to see potential options. A door was left ajar, showcasing the bathroom utilities on the other side. A shower, toilet and sink, from what she could see. As for the door leading out of the room, it looked like a simple bedroom door. This  _had_  to be a cell of some kind—there was no way that the Octarian General would keep her so free.

Her question is immediately answered when she hears the click of a lock from the other side—so she was being detained. The tall, lean General walks in, closing the door behind him. She’s half expecting him to be armed but is surprised to see that his hands are free from any weapon. What she recognizes immediately is that white trench coat. His green eyes locked upon her blue ones as he remains standing, his face reacting in surprise—likely due to her increased movement.

<I’m surprised you’re awake and out of bed.> He folds his hands, his face remains stoic. <You were knocked out for a while.>

 _How long was a while?_ Her nerves spiked from his words.

<Don’t look so scared.> He speaks as if he has the audacity to be annoyed. What a cur. <You’re not in danger—you’re just a kid. I have no desire to hurt you.>

<Then why have me here at all?> Cordelia raises her voice. <Let me go home,  _now_. >  

<Listen, if that was possible, I’d do it. Surely you’re not simple-minded—you should know why you’re here.>

<Why is that?> She glowers. She wasn’t in the mood to be talked down to—especially by her  _kidnapper_.

<It’s  _our_  father.>

<What about him?> She spits. <And why do you think I want to talk to you? I could knock you out right now.>

<But you won’t. I remember your tactics in the research facility. You’re hopeless unless you have a weapon.> She was going to demand proof, but then she remembers he had kept tabs on her as Agent 4 in the past. For god’s sake…

Cordelia frowns deeply. <Fuck you.>

That response gets a laugh out of him. It’s not mocking, he genuinely finds her response amusing. Cordelia isn’t sure if that makes her more at ease, or angry.

<Are you going to tell me  _why_  you decided to kidnap me? And don’t use  _my_  dad as an excuse. I want to know the reason.>

<Kidnap? Hardly. I don’t think you’d have listened to me if I asked you to have a chat with me.> His tone is serious—but that didn’t excuse his actions. <The last time we spoke, it was a bit  _heated_. >

<You banned the Octoling—erm—Radjerd from his home.> She crosses her arms. <That isn’t only  _heated_ , that’s terrible.>

<He was attempting to destroy the hard work our kind had built. What would have you done in my shoes?> He seems frustrated by her words. <He’s been a problem for quite some time, but to think that the two of you got married…> He shakes his head. <I can’t believe that traitor and I are indirectly related.>

<Like hell you are. I’ll never see you as a brother.>

<Like it or not,  _we are related_. > He frowns. <I don’t dislike you, Cordelia. Jealous, maybe. But it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I was excited to have a sister—when … _Aleck_  told me about you.>

The genuineness to his voice surprised her.

<But you know how fickle fathers can be …or I guess in your case, you don’t. But he took care of my mother and I quite well, I suppose.> He sighs. <I’ll give him that.> He stares at her in speculation. <To be honest, I’m surprised you know about me. I didn’t think Aleck had the balls to tell you.>

<He didn’t. I found out on my own, if you must know.> Her annoyance is real.

<I shouldn’t be surprised by that.> He sounds disappointed. <You look a lot like him.>

<So do you.> She says back.

<Curse us both then.> He sighs. <The man wouldn’t even accept my son.>

<Your son!?> Cordelia gasps.

<Yes, I have a son.> He frowns. <Did Aleck neglect to tell you that as well?> 

It wasn’t even the fact that her father had failed to mention that he had a grandson, but that Cordelia was technically an  _aunt_. This was getting ridiculous. 

<I’d never talk to that traitor of a man again, but once I met my boy, I knew I needed to protect the homeland. I needed that man’s cooperation.> He sighs. <Blood means everything to Aleck, apparently…>

What did he mean by  _blood_? Cordelia anticipated that she would find out soon what he had meant, but it would likely end up at the cost of her safety.

<Who says you’re telling the truth?>

<You don’t believe me?> He raises a brow. <The boy's here, in this building.>

Cordelia can’t believe this. The whole ordeal is making her stomach churn.

<You can’t be serious.> She squeaks. He was purposely being vague.  

<I do. It’s important he gets to know his family.> He frowns.

<Why the hell would you bring your child here!>

<I wanted him to meet you.> He pauses. <And while you’re in a holding cell—I made sure this one was a comfortable one. In your condition, you should be surrounded by comfort.>

< _My_  condition?> Cordelia scoffs. <Don’t act so chivalrous! The only reason that I was in danger at all was because of you…> Her scowl is deep.

<I was merely worried about your health, that is all. If I had realized the elixir would have knocked you out for so long…> He frowns. <If you were out for any longer, I’d have gotten a doctor. The one we have in-house is on vacation, and unfortunately, that doesn’t leave me with many options without being  _exposed_. >

Great to know that if she took a turn for the worse, the General would have  _then_  called for outside assistance. Cordelia rolls her eyes. It doesn’t take long before severe hunger pangs hit her gut. 

<How long was I out for?> 

<You wouldn't like the answer.> He simply replies. 

Cordelia sighs, <I take it you poisoned my guests with that wine too.>

<What? I know of no such thing.> He shakes his head. <Why would I poison  _wine_ _? > _

 _< Becuase it was rancid_ _!_ _>  _Her tone quivers—even thinking of the smell makes her nauseous. 

<I have no interest in poisoning  _anyone_. > He follows with, <I’ll get you some food since you're not making a lick of sense. You must be hungry.>

He was right—her hunger enveloped her immediately. She wasn’t interested in any food this man had to give her. It could be laced with that poison he used to knock her out.

<I’m not hungry.> She glowers. <I’m not taking your poisoned morsels.>

<Still on the poison track I see.> Could he  _blame_  her? Seriously, she was drugged before she was locked up in this room! <I suppose I can leave a hot meal by your table and see if you change your mind. If not, well… you’re going to be weak regardless. At any rate, I’ll have your meal prepared shortly.> 

He leaves without another word, leaving Cordelia to reflect on the exchange between her and the General. His words felt ...fragmented. Like he wasn't placing any coherent thoughts together. Or, was that because she wasn't feeling herself? Not that it could be blamed—who knows  _how_  long she's been here for? She holds her stomach as it pangs from hunger. God, her hunger was catching up with her. 

She jumps when she heard the lock on the door release as another man came in—he was dressed in a white uniform, carrying what smelled to be a delicious wholesome meal. Cordelia’s nose perks up immediately, wanting to know what the man was carrying.

The Octoling man wears his dark hair short, as his orange eyes are drawn to her—given what she was wearing, could she really blame the man for looking at her with intrigue—no—that’s not how he was looking at her. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes lingering on her briefly before he steps out. Was he…  _checking her out?_  To his credit, he was easy on the eyes …but, she couldn’t even enjoy it. Her predicament prevented her from even acting like herself—damn it all.

She stares at the food before her. It makes her both hungry and nauseous to smell it. Why should she believe that the General didn’t poison her food? If he could keep her docile, she wouldn’t escape. Getting her energy up would be a big mistake. Cordelia becomes ravenous—god, she had to at least eat  _something_. She folds, sniffing the plate of meat and veggies. It smelled mouth-watering. She takes a careful bite with her fork, deciding it was good enough for consumption. She decides to dig in, not even swallowing her food. It could be poisoned, it could even kill her. But she didn’t care—she was starving.

Finishing off her plate, Cordelia sips her water down feeling quite satisfied with her meal. She leans back, understanding that this bland, yet delicious food she consumed  _could_  have killed her.

She holds her head, suddenly feeling weary. She must have eaten too fast—god damn it! She slams her fist onto the table, the now empty plate hopping in place. 

Cordelia hears a child’s voice approach her cell. The General wasn’t bluffing. Why did everyone she meet have a god damn kid—or was on their way to having one? Did wars spur the need to reproduce?

Cordelia shakes her head. She’d have to save her cynical thoughts for later.

The damn man did poison her food, the inclination to throw it up came in seconds. She rushes to the bathroom; the contents of her stomach lurch forward into the porcelain bowl. She ignores the fact that her disposition wasn’t the strongest during stressful times—and this was indeed a stressful time. It  _has_  to be the poison.

The man looks at her with questioning eyes as he retracts his step, the boy in his arms. He was at least the same age as Landon, or, at least she reckoned. She wasn’t the best at identifying the age of kids. He looked …like a little Octoling. It was uncanny, maybe it was just the cut of this one’s hair, but it reminded her of the Octoling—she feels her throat tighten. 

The boy lights up when they meet eye contact, saw he wriggles out of his father’s hands. He runs over to Cordelia, looking at her in dazzled awe. She doesn’t care—she decided she did  _not_  like this kid.

<I’m surprised his mother let you bring him to a cell like this.> Cordelia speculates. <Unless you kidnapped him too.>

He curls his lips, detesting what she had said. <His mother is dead.>

<Oh.> She looks at the boy in question.

He admits softly. <I’m not Denton’s biological father, but that doesn’t matter. I love him all the same.> He frowns.

<Then why on earth would you bring him to a place like this?>

<Because he deserves to meet family.> He growls. <Even if they are …estranged.>

<Then why are you a vicious prick?> She grumbles.

<Because the Octarians will  _eat me alive_  if I don’t. Do you think that I have a choice in the matter?>

God, he sounded just like her father.

<I was …hoping that you’d understand my situation. You, and Aleck.>

<I don't need to. This has nothing to do with me.> 

<Of course you do, you are his precious heir!> His temper riles up. <Our lands are collapsing—and took my wife. My boy is all I have left—I have no choice but to get Aleck to listen to me. We  _can’t_  lose this war.>

Chances are, he could have kidnapped some Octoling child to pose as his son—but how likely was that? The child couldn’t have been older than Landon, and would have easily reacted poorly to the General if he wasn’t in fact related in some way. A step-father was still family.

<Why didn’t you just ask … _Aleck_ … for help? Why perpetuate a war at all?>

His green eyes grow dark, his tone becomes chilling. _ <You know nothing, you spoiled git.> _Even his Octoling son backs away, fear strikes in the boy’s dark brown eyes. He approaches her, his fists clench—Cordelia instantly flinches, but there isn’t a reason to. He doesn’t hit her—but now she’s reaffirmed he’s not stable. He relaxes when he sees his son’s still in the room. <Denton, wait for Daddy outside, alright?>

The boy looks at Cordelia, then back at his father. <Why?> He speaks softly.

<Because Daddy’s got business to take care of. Go find Branton.>

If Cordelia’s heart rate didn’t skyrocket, she would have attributed Branton to the Octoling man that was eyeing her earlier. But the boy follows directions, hobbling to the door, where he was scooped up by the man he was instructed to see.

<Nice lad, isn’t he?> The General’s voice is calm. <It’s a shame he’ll be second in line to whatever  _horrendous_  offspring you and your traitorous husband will create.>

Considering the General was a result of such a union, Cordelia takes that as slander towards his own self than at her. Still, she didn’t like cut of his jib.  

<I don’t appreciate that tone of yours.> She narrows her eyes. <And if you think you can intimidate me  _just_  because I’m in your territory, you’ve got another thing coming.>

He takes a step closer as he grabs her wrist, squeezing it with his hand. She winces, but does her best not to show it. Instead, she cocks a smile. <You said you wouldn’t hurt me.>

She yelps when he yanks her closer, inches away from her face. Her gut chills when he speaks, <It seems the only thing you’ll respond to, is pain.>

<Oh,  _scary. >_ She manages to pull on his hair, before he lets go of her, taking the opportunity to smack him across the face. She wasn’t going to let him win in this situation.

 _< You cunt.> _He says, lunging at her. Cordelia leaps out of the way, but hits her side into the bed frame, keeling over in agony.  _God dammit!_  She closes her eyes, waiting for him to deliver the final blow, but, he doesn’t. She hears his knees crack as he bends down to her level, his voice level and calm like it was before. <I wish you wouldn’t rile my temper like that,  _sister_. But it seems karma put you in your place. > He pats her shoulder, Cordelia recoils from his touch.

She was kidnapped by a lunatic.  


	38. Chapter 38

Cordelia curls up in her soft plush bed—panic settles in as she brings her knees to her stomach. She could barely focus, her side hurting from the earlier excursion with the General. God, she still couldn’t believe it. From married to kidnapped, and now, a helpless prisoner. She’s glad he’s gone, as tears slide down her face.

She was under the whims of  _the Octarian General_

Her brother.

Three hours had passed since the assault. Only three hours. Cordelia wants to scream—grabbing the pillow she had flung against the wall, burying her face into it—letting out a blood-curdling scream. It would do absolutely nothing, but make her feel better. That was worth it in the end, right? She takes a deep breath as she removes the pillow from her face.

She shudders, a tight lump in her throat starts to form. No, she couldn’t cry again. It would show weakness—weakness she had no room to show. She had to be collected—she couldn’t let the General know she was scared.

He had promised not to hurt her—only use her as a bargaining chip to get her father to listen to his demands. A scary thought appears in her head—what would he do to her if her father  _didn’t_  listen? Would the man resort to violence? If her father didn’t want to cave—that was always a possibility. Cordelia didn’t feel that the General had any love for her, despite his dedication to  _family_  like he claimed. She was a disposable tool in his eyes—and, she can see why.

Her father might have cared for her, but if she was the illegitimate child, would he still be on her side?  

As sad as the thought made her, at least it pulled her from her state-of-mind.

Her door opens, she hears a teacup wiggling against a saucer. She can smell it immediately—was that lemon tea? She perks up, her nerves spiking when she turns to see who has entered the cell.

It was the Octoling from before—she breathes a sigh of relief.  

<Hello, Miss Firthe.> He speaks, his voice quiet. He offers a small grin when he puts the teacup on the table. <General Chalmers said to brew you some tea.>

<I’m sure he did.> Cordelia suspiciously stares at the unusually curved pot of tea. It was likely laced with poison—or whatever he had given her to knock her out. What did he think she was, stupid? There was no way she was drinking that.

Cordelia feels the heat of the man’s stare on her—when she notes that he’s looking right at her deep neckline. Oh—the way her dress pressed against her chest did give her added cleavage—she couldn’t blame him for his wandering gaze. She looks back at him with curious eyes, he looks up with a stark blush covering his dark cheeks.   

<If you need anything, please let me know.> He says quickly before departing. Oh—she made him nervous? That’s not the impression she got when she had first met him.

<I’m good—thanks.> She doesn’t hide the displeasure of her tone. He takes his leave rather quickly; god, he really  _was_  unsettled by her presence—although it gave her brief amusement that she made the man hot and bothered just by wearing this dress. Speaking of which…

<Oh, yes, there’s something I’d like—can you get me something else to wear,  _please?_  This dress is quite restricting against the midsection, which I’m sure you can understand.> It was true—this dress was pretty to wear, but it did hinder her movements.

<I’ll talk to the General.> He nods as his eyes dip to her chest, then back to her face. <I’m sure he wouldn’t mind accommodating you.>

<Thanks.> She laughs to herself as she watches the Octoling practically scurry from her room. If the only pleasure she can get is to tease one of the General’s workers, so be it.

Silence welcomes the buttermilk haired Inkling as another hour passes. She doesn’t feel anguish or fear, but she doesn’t feel right either. It’s a strange state of calm, and oddly, time feels like it’s flying by. She almost feels apathetic as she lies down on her side, letting her arm droop. The tips of her fingers feel cool against the cement floor.

Her life was a complete and utter mess—yet—she’d do anything to get back to its chaos and unpredictability. She can’t bear to think of the Octoling—or she might warrant those uncomfortable pangs of loneliness again... She hated that she became so dependent on the Octoling's company. 

Cordelia sighs to herself. It was a ridiculous move to marry him just to save him from deportation, but now, that thought didn’t resonate as silly. She missed him. And …depending how long she was gone for, he was likely beside himself with worry. Would he come to rescue her? Cordelia would have loved to think so, but he was exiled. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t even sneak in. Cordelia turns on her back, looking at the stucco ceiling.

Would she ever see him again?

The overwhelming desire to cry pours over her, but she doesn’t break face. She will  _not_  cry another damn tear.

Cordelia jumps as the door squeaks open—funny—she hadn’t realized that the door hinges squeaked until now. She averts her eyes immediately when the familiar dressed Inkling enters the room. She follows his gaze to the window, his shoulders are slumped as he were ashamed of something—which he better be. If Cordelia was to expect him showing remorse for what he had done earlier, this is what she would have expected. 

<Cordelia, about today…> He looks at the tea, his train of thought following his stare. <I acted out of line. I took advantage of your position, and I— _well_ —I’m sure you can recall what happened.>

Was he really apologizing to her? God… Cordelia wants to groan, because she didn’t want to talk to him—not after how he acted—especially since he reminded her of the nasty sore she had on her side. Damn him.

<Sorry to say I don’t forgive easily.> She sticks her nose up in the air, turning her chin away from the General.  

<Understandable.> He invites himself in, easing himself onto the chair. One thing Cordelia notices, he seems to have issues bending his knees. Did that mean he also had trouble moving? If she were to take him out—that’s where she would start. She’d store that thought for later—if he tried the shit he pulled earlier today, she’d have made sure that’s what she would have done.

<Who said you could stay?> She spits at him. <After the bullshit you pulled.>

<I—well, have issues I need to work through. I can admit that. But, you have to understand the severity of my people by now. You know how Aleck can help us.>

<If you’re trying to apologize, this isn’t how you’re going to get my forgiveness.> Cordelia notes his lips purse, but she doesn’t comment. He closes his eyes before letting out a frustrated sigh.

<I suppose you’re right.> He leans back, looking up at the ceiling. <What do you know about me?>

She begrudgingly admits, <Not a lot.>

His face drops. <I thought you might have been holding back on purpose, but... Dammit, I should have expected as much.> Cordelia swears she sees his eyes moisten. An underlying growl laces his words.

<Don’t think you’re the only one that’s suffered for his lack of attention.> She narrows her eyes. <I’ve always gotten along with my dad, but don’t think he’s always been good. My own mother kicked me out—> She stops there. Cordelia doesn’t want to let the General know any more about her life than he may already know.

<Your mother kicked you out?> He scratches his chin. <I hardly call that a crime.>

Cordelia stands up in anger. <Are you out of your mind?! She didn’t have a place for me, I had to sleep on some couch like some homeless person!>

<And Aleck didn’t override her decision? That’s surprising.>

<He ended up paying for my flat, but still…> She pouts. <It’s not like they were doing me any favours.>

<At least you channelled your anger into something productive. I’ve seen how impressive you were in Octo Canyon—you even took out Octavio, which I can greatly thank you for.> He presses his hands together. <Thanks to your persistence and his incompetence,  _I_ got a promotion. I got to admit that you’re quite impressive with your P-90.>

She knew that he was referring to her Hero Shot but she hardly ever heard it addressed by that name. It had been a month (or, so she knows) since she had last played with her beloved weapon. She missed it greatly. Talking about her jaunts in Octo Canyon quelled her anger, but ignited suspicion in its place. Why was he so open with her about this? Was it because he was mocking her—or did he legitimately trust her? He was hard to read.

<What compelled you to track my every move?>

<I was curious when I heard about some Inkling tearing through the bases of Octo Canyon. I wanted to investigate who was bold enough to relinquish their fears and take on an entire army. Shock overtook me when I saw that it was you—Cordelia Firthe—out there on the battlefield. I won’t lie—when I saw it was you, a bit of pride swelled within me.>

<You threatened my—our—father with this knowledge, saying he had to help you in exchange for my safety. I don’t call that pride.>

<It was the leverage I needed to force his hand. I had no intention of hurting you. I wouldn’t have recognized you with the green hair, but that giant portrait he has of you in his office is hard to miss.>

Her cheeks redden. <I didn’t ask for him to commission that awful painting.>  

<It’s …oddly demanding.> He says, noting the portrait from memory. <I had figured you weren’t interested in the portrait’s completion judging by your expression.>

<Of course I wasn’t interested in sitting for hours in front of some bastard painter. You know how frustrating it is to sit in front of someone who constantly tells you not to glare? You start to wonder if your natural look simply haunts people. He didn’t believe that it was my resting face.>

His amused smile turns into a chuckle. <Now that’s a story I’d like to know more about.>

Both paused, staring at each other. Did they just share a …somewhat  _genuine_  moment together? God, Cordelia did  _not_  want to like him. But, a part of her was starting to understand that he wasn’t all bad—even if he was messed up.

<Aside from that, I got a report that you’re hardly able to hold down your food. I had Branton fetch you some lemon tea in hopes that’ll quell your illness, but I see that you've hardly touched it.> The General says, picking up the porcelain teacup. 

<It’s not an illness—it’s something I’ve had since I was a child.> She wasn’t going to let him know  _he_  was the cause of her stress. They might have shared a moment together, but there was no way that she was going to give him the satisfaction of her stress. <And I don’t understand why you would expect me to drink that—the last drink you gave me was poisoned.>

<I didn’t poison you, it was a tonic that put you to sleep.> He sighs. <Which I’ll admit I shouldn’t have done, but I was desperate. I was hoping your capture would help Aleck reinstate his support in exchange for your return—because now we’re stalled on operations. We need his weapons in order to move forward with the pursuit.>

So his capture of her had  _stalled_  the war? That didn’t sound right—how could one individual stall an entire war? Were the weapons still in development? That would have to mean that the weapon makers were in her father’s employ… Dammit, yet another thing he had lied about. No. Cordelia had to consider the benefits of this situation. As long as she is in his care, that would prevent the war from proceeding. This was an interesting tidbit… Maybe she  _could_  stall him. Cordelia sits up from her bed, pulling herself to her feet before taking baby steps toward the table. She sits in the opposite chair next to him, eying the teacup. The tea would be cold by now, wouldn’t it?

<It’d be cold by now.> She complains.

The General leans over, tilting the teapot over the cup; steam rises immediately. <It’s a hybrid pot—it’ll keep the tea warm indefinitely—or until the battery runs out.> A laugh follows his words.

While impressed with the contraption, Cordelia’s suspicion remains. <If what you say is true, you take a sip.> 

The General does as she asks, pouring himself some tea in the flask he had around his waist. He blows on the tip before taking a sip. <Just the alluring bittersweet flavour of lemon and honey.>

Cordelia can't help but pull a face. Why would he drink tea out of a flask? His grin appears friendly, playful. Not menacing or suspicious. Despite her gut warning her not to, she decides to take a sip.  

<How does it taste?>

His voice is soothing as she drinks the lemon tea in her hands.

<You don’t have to sound so attentive.> Cordelia puts the cup down. It’s delicious.

<I apologized for my behaviour, did I not?> He sighs helplessly. <Seeing you …reminds me of what I missed out on.>

<What, my mess of a life? Consider yourself lucky.> Cordelia halfheartedly laughs. <My mother made my life a living hell.> Which, this was the first time that she felt bad for saying so. In fact, she would do anything to see her mother again.

<You understand that I need Aleck’s cooperation—he’s the supplier in this war. If he cuts it off—we’re screwed.> Desperation falls his voice. <For you inklings, it’s a matter of inconvenience. For us, it’s life or death.>

 _Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You’re an Inkling,_ is what she wanted to say. She knew that wouldn’t get her anywhere with him.

<And you think  _drones_  are the way to go about this? The Octo—Radjerd was right about them. If they exist, they’ll  _kill_  whatever life exists above, and what stops you from taking the drones on as your militant subjects?>

<Did he also neglect to tell you that Octolings were once subservient drones?> He sounds amused.

<No, but I already knew that.> She wasn’t going to let on that Freydis shared that tidbit with her.

<I wasn’t going to replace our society with drones.> He sighs. <He’s an idiot for assuming so.>

<Look, maybe we can stop this nonsense if you’re willing to cooperate. We can go to the citadel, talk to the Special Forces Unit, arrange some kind of agreement—maybe we can manage to get more Octarians homes. But, you have to back down—convince the armies to halt.>

<We’ve tried negotiating. They don’t give a shit about us.> His fingers curl into a fist. <Your kind can’t listen to direction.>

<My kind? Have you  _looked_  at yourself?> Cordelia decides to voice her earlier thoughts. <You’re one of us.>

 _< Don’t you dare say that.> _He grits his teeth. As Cordelia instinctively inches away from him. <I will  _never_  be one of you.>

<I’m giving you your best way out.> Cordelia folds her arms. <If you want out of this life, I’ll make sure my father will listen; he’ll take you in—incorporate you into society.>

<Did you not listen to a god damn thing I said?! My people are dying, and all you think I’m concerned about is my vanity?!> He slams his fist on the table, causing Cordelia to jump. <You really are a stupid little girl.>

<Excuse me?! For whatever the reason I have, I’m  _trying_  to help you! You think kidnapping me is  _really_  going to help your cause? When  _they_  find me, you’re not going to have a cause left—you’ll be carted away!>

<They won’t find you, Cordelia.> He sports a slow grin. <This is the testing facility—where our drones are made. It’s heavily guarded—no one can get in.>

Her stomach drops—she begins to feel nauseous again. The tea hadn’t helped one bit.

<Don’t look so ill—I don’t plan to keep you confined like this forever. Aleck will bide to my demands, he has no choice.>

<What if he refuses?>

<Then he  _doesn’t_  get you back, that simple.>

<So you just expect me to live in this cell for the rest of my life?!>

<Of course not, you’d live with me and Denton.> He pauses, as If he’s able to read her mind. <And don’t look so frightened—you’d help me further my cause.>

<You better not…> Cordelia growls. She would not be hypnotized.

<Cordelia… Do you really think me so cheap to mind warp my own sister?> His voice is eerily calm. <There are other ways to sway you to my side, willingly. I don’t need a cheap tactic as hypnotization. There are  _other_  methods for getting what I desire.>

She  _hated_  the sound of that.

<The hypnoshades made no sense—once they were shot off, they wore off quite quickly.> He shakes his head. <So I took into account something much more powerful, something that would be embedded into the blood of any creature subjugated to it.>

<Oh, you have something that powerful, do you?> Cordelia scoffs. <Why not use it on me to get me to agree with your demands—or  _Aleck’s_  for that matter?>

<I wouldn’t want to use it on you, or him, unless I absolutely had to.> He frowns. <It shouldn’t be used unless under extreme circumstances. I’d only ever use something like that on you if you proved to be a threat.> His tone wasn’t a warning—it was way too casual. <I’d prefer to have your trust. In return, I promise to control my temper. You must appreciate that I’m under an overwhelming amount of stress—my people are counting on me to give them a victory.>

Cordelia sighs. She  _supposes_  she can understand where the General's coming from. The Octoling had said the same thing—their society was under collapse. If that were her home, there was no doubt that she would feel the same that he did.

<Listen, I understand I’m new at this whole  _brother_  role, but it isn’t a good idea to test my temper.> He sighs as he stands up. <I want to do right by you while you’re here, but how can I when you seemingly goad me on purpose?>

Cordelia can’t help but roll her eyes.

<That’s not my fault.> She reminds him. <You’re the one who kidnapped me.>

He frowns, assessing her words. <I know it wasn’t the best idea…> He mutters under his breath.

<It clearly wasn’t.> Cordelia frowns back.

<The minute I can get ahold of Aleck, the faster you’ll be out of here.> The General assures her. But, knowing the Agents, her father wouldn’t be allowed to contact the General even if he was trying to put in a signal—even at the cost of her own safety, Cordelia begins to realize.

She was screwed …royally screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of September, can you believe it? Because I certainly can't! 
> 
> If you missed the q&a from two weeks ago, it's posted on youtube [here](http://bit.ly/2DQgJ5U). I'll be starting another one in October so if you missed out the first time no worries, another shall be coming up soon! 
> 
> See you next week!


	39. Chapter 39

Damn it all!

The Octoling curses under his breath, slamming a fist against his lap. Bristling with anger, his violet eyes remain on the clock. Cordelia,  _his wife_ , has been abducted by that lowlife of a creature—the Octarian General, the very person who had exiled him from his homelands. If he didn’t already have another reason to hate the bastard… It had been two  _long_  weeks, and his environment had forced his hand—the Agents had instructed the Firthe household that it was a matter of special intelligence—if word got out that the Octarian General had kidnapped Cordelia, it would cause rise for suspicion. People would start asking questions—questions that the Special Forces Unit didn’t know how to answer.

He could have wrung that white-haired Agent’s neck for spewing such treachery—one of her own was taken, and  _this_  is how she responds? Until, he had learned that Agent 2 was in Octo Canyon, searching for the frosted tip Idol, and it had been the black haired Agent's instructions. He liked her  _slightly_  better than the white one. 

The first week, he had been reeling in his anger, the only two keeping him sane were Freydis, and Aleck, his new father-in-law. Aleck had invited Freydis and Melbourne to stay in the manor for the time being—to keep them out of public sight he gathered. It was a fair move, and one he understood given the times they were under—despite not being able to comprehend anything else. What made him uneasy were the dreams he would have about Cordelia—of the married life they were supposed to have. They were in the beach house Aleck had kindly provided for them, living happily—eating breakfast at noon, taking walks alongside the beach only to have Cordelia complain about the sand between her toes... It broke his heart to realize that they were only dreams. He lived in the guest room he had stayed in when he had first arrived at the manor—and often had the staff change his pillows. Out of sheer emotion, he’d rip said pillows to shreds when he realized that Cordelia wasn’t sleeping by his side—it was more productive than the tears of anguish that hit him the first few nights.

The second week hadn’t been easier, however, he was able to come to terms with the kidnapping. Merise had opted to go to the Congress House—while he had expected that Aleck would do it—the evidence the Special Forces Unit had against him wouldn’t help their cause. Merise wasn’t a people person, but Aleck had shared his utmost confidence that his wife will help convince the Congresspeople, as well as the Special Forces Unit bend the rules to save her daughter without sending the public into mass fits of panic. Radjerd hoped that’d she would succeed, but there was no word from the silver haired Inkling since she had left the manor. All he could do was wait, to bide his time.

To pray to whatever gods took pity on him that his wife was safe. 

Radjerd sits on the patio, the weather dauntingly cloudless—the Great Octarian high in the sky. He was trapped—he  _knew_  he couldn’t infiltrate without official support, or he would be putting everyone at risk. This cycle of frustration would continue until he would inevitably break down, then to continue the grief over again. He had to take off his ring—staring at it made him too upset. A polite knock on the door interrupts the Octoling from his thoughts.

<May I take a seat?> He hears a voice say. It belonged to the Firthe Patriarch himself.

Radjerd nods, allowing the man to pull out a chair and sit down next to him.

<Take it from me, it’s not good to close yourself off like this.> He begins, but Radjerd isn’t interested in where he was going with this.  

<How the hell can you remain so calm! Every day, I get plagued to think what that madman is doing to her—and there’s nothing I can do!>

His words pain the older man, as the curl in his lip intensifies. <My hands are tied too, lad. Merise told me that she’s doing the best she can with headquarters, infiltrating a way into the Testing Facility without triggering panic.>

<You said she didn’t call you.> The Octoling argues.

<She did, but… no, nevermind about that. They’re getting Agent 3 on the case.>

Radjerd doesn’t appreciate that Aleck had been hiding the news, but now isn’t a time to argue. One thing he’s certain about, however… <No,  _no more agents!_ They haven’t done jack shit. Cordelia’s still down there—at the whims of  _him_. I don’t understand why everyone is taking their god-damn time. These agents are her friends—apparently, but they’ll just have us sit back here for so long and do nothing. That’s just not my way. > He clenches his knees, as panic begins to bubble in his throat. So much for coming to terms with this…  

<I understand how you feel—more than you realize.> In a brief moment of reprieve, Radjerd had to give the man credit—both of his children were directly involved in this fiasco, even though if given the chance, he was going to  _murder_  that General with his own bare hands. <According to the wires that the Special Forces Unit allowed us to overhear—it stated that Fitz wants to communicate his terms and conditions—he wasn’t going to harm Cordelia. He only wants to talk to me… I’m frustrated too, for the Agents won’t allow me to talk to my children because of my treachery.>

He lowers his head, blinking furiously to hide back his own tears of frustration. A gentle pang of affection hits his heart—his violet eyes soften as he looks at the older inkling man.

<I’m sorry I didn’t catch on sooner—I could have interfered.> Radjerd says dejectedly.

<It’s not easy leaving the fate of your loved ones into the hands of someone else. But we are so close to war with the Octarians that If we barge in without a plan, it could be seen as treason. I wanted the Octarians to rise up against the Inklings, but not like this… Not at the cost of my own daughter.> He takes a deep, confident breath. <I trust my wife—she’s not going to let fate decide Cordelia’s future.>

He puts a shaky hand on the Octoling’s shoulder—If only Aleck believed that statement himself, it would have cured the Octoling of his uncertainness.

He hears a break in Aleck’s voice. <You are family now, you’re my last chance to get it right. I screwed up with Cordelia, I let her mother cast her out against my wishes. We forced that poor girl to inadvertently become an agent. If I had stood up to my wife—pulled my own head out of my ass…> He sighs dejectedly.

Radjerd realizes, <I ought to thank you and Mrs. Firthe for that misstep. If you two hadn’t pushed her out as you did, I’d have never met Cordelia.>

<I suppose you’re right. I’m grateful that you made your way into our lives, lad. You are the one good thing that came from this all.>  

<No, I should be the one expressing my gratitude for all that you’ve done for me. Accepting me as I am, not judging me for my lack of wealth and rank.>

<Who would I be to judge you of something you have no control of? I had a son with an Octoling woman—which I’ll never regret. The only thing I wish I did differently was not listening to my own bastard of a father. But, then …if I didn’t, Cordelia wouldn’t be with us today. My, it’s a conundrum—but I suppose everything happens for a reason.> It was incredible how he could see the realization in the man’s steel blue eyes.

Radjerd wants to believe Aleck’s words, but for what reason did Cordelia deserve to be used as a pawn in war politics? He understands the marriage between him and the Inkling girl was to secure the Octoling’s safety, but it should have gone both ways. Sure, Radjerd was safe… but what of Cordelia? A deep frown etches across his face. It took every ounce of his being to prevent going rogue and saving her himself.  

<Lad, cheer up.> The older man gives him a hearty pat on the back. <My wife is a miracle worker.>

<Just so you know, the minute we come up with a plan, I’m going after Cordelia myself.> The Octoling mutters under his breath; the older man hears his ramblings.

<I don’t expect you to sit back and do nothing. But, what I ask of you—no—beg of you to do, is to be careful. Any rash moves, and it might be both my children's lives on the line. The Octarian military—as you know—is unpredictable.>

<I’d never do anything to harm Cordelia, no matter the cost.> His voice is serious. <Aleck, I promise you. I’ll behave. I’ll follow orders, whatever I need to do. I won’t do anything reckless.> These words weren’t for the Inkling man, but rather, for Radjerd himself to hear. He needed the solid reminder—the one time he couldn’t be reckless. If he was, it could cost him Cordelia’s life.

<I’m glad to hear it—considering your friend was quite worried you would.> A light chuckle escapes from the man’s lips. <I like you and would be upset if you ended your own life needlessly. Cordelia wouldn’t forgive me if I allowed you to die.>

He nods. <She’s my wife now—I don’t have the luxury to be reckless, no matter how tempting it is to destroy the people who did this to her.> He wanted to say the Octarian General but knew that would upset Aleck. Understandably, he was the man’s son. It would have been better if he wasn’t related to the man at all, then he could pound the General’s face with his own bare fists. When he came face to face with the Octarian General, he would make no promises to remain calm.

<No more sulking, for either of us.> Aleck slaps his knees. <It’s time for us to focus on what we  _can_  do.>  

<Easier said than done.> Radjerd mutters.  

<Listen, my daughter is more than capable of taking care of herself. She was trained as Agent 4—or have you forgotten?> His words were meant to cheer the Octoling up, but it did the opposite—Radjerd recalls how helpless she was when he lost his temper, almost snapping her neck from anger. She would have died in his arms if he followed through with his urges. As much as he wishes he could take those actions back, it was an impossibility. He would keep silent—not letting the older Inkling man learn of his daughter’s capabilities—or lack thereof.

Radjerd nods in response.

Aleck changes the subject. <How is your Octoling friend doing? Freydis, right?>

<She’s well, and tells me she is overwhelmed by your kindness.>

<We have plenty of room for your friends, lad. I feel rather silly that I didn’t learn of Cordelia’s  _other_  new friend until the wedding.>

<Noralyn?>

<Yes, it’s such a unique name I keep forgetting it.> So was Freydis, but Radjerd wasn’t going to correct the older man now. It was irrelevant. <She’s been dropping by with her tyke—it really brings me back to when little Delia was that age. She was quite fussy—oh, and had quite a mouth on her too. I can’t tell you where she learned that from.> A nostalgic chuckle leaves his lips.

Radjerd shakes his head to get out of his current funk, easing himself off of the patio chair. He would check up on Freydis and Melbourne, who surprisingly wasn’t as irritating as he remembered. Poor man, and he doesn’t even realize that Freydis is pregnant. Then again, if the Octoling didn’t hear those exact words come out of her mouth, he wouldn’t have realized it either.

<I’ll check up on them.> Radjerd uses that excuse to leave the patio—he needed to be on his own. He couldn’t focus on Cordelia—or he’d go insane. He had to stay on his best behaviour …after all, if it weren’t for Freydis, he’d have lost his shit the night it happened.

 

Radjerd sits in the main living area, paintings of old cottage towns, mixed with scenic mountaintops adorn the walls. His focus is briefly taken off of them, shifting attention to two familiar voices—Freydis and Noralyn. He didn’t realize the orange haired Inkling had visited a third time; the girls enter the living room. Freydis waves while Noralyn’s face lights up. She walks over to greet him.

<Good morning Radjerd!> Her voice is chipper. <I managed to find Landon a babysitter for the time being. I want to be available for whatever comes up—concerning Cordelia that is. If my husband is qualified to be a part of the Special Forces Unit, then I am more than qualified to help.> He can see the bitterness in her brown eyes—clearly, she didn’t know her husband had been in this occupation—until he volunteered to investigate Cordelia’s disappearance. He assumed the orange haired Inkling found out after the fact. As for her qualifications, but he can appreciate Noralyn’s enthusiasm, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be responsible for another body. He knew Freydis could hold her own, but Noralyn?

<Sweetie, I get you’re upset but there’s no way I could let you go down there.> Freydis says. Radjerd’s brows perk up when he sees Melbourne follow, the man leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

He briefly asks her about her day but is cut off when Noralyn replies, <You forget that I used to be a turf champion, there’s no way I wouldn’t be useful!> Noralyn crosses her arms in detest.

<Real battles are nothing like Turf; I can assure you. You’re a mother, you have too much to lose.>

<And you’re pregnant!> Noralyn stresses, Freydis’ face falls immediately—considering her husband was  _right_  there. Radjerd winces, afraid of what the red haired Octoling would say.

<No, we’re not pregnant.> Melbourne chuckles. <Freydis says she wants to wait, which I understand given her career. But maybe after when all this war business is finished, we can start talking about a family, right Frey?>

Freydis lowers her head before turning to her husband.

<Mel…> She speaks quietly. <Look, I have to come clean about something.>

Oh god, she was going to confess right here and now? Radjerd knows that Melbourne will catch on. It didn’t take the man too much time to figure out what she meant.

He raises a finger. <Wait,  _wait!_  Don’t tell me that you are.>

<I am.> Her shoulders lower.

He can see a whirlwind of emotions cross the usually stoic man’s face.  <I refuse to believe that you’ve been keeping this a secret—no—that others—complete strangers that I don’t even know—knew before I did>

< I can explain …you’d have been so testy about my position in the army, and I needed time to figure it out.>

<By telling everyone except me—dammit, I don’t know if I should be ecstatic or furious at you! How dare you put yourself in harm’s way when you are with child—my child!>

<I know it was wrong of me to keep it a secret, but I’m not sorry. I knew you would act this way—and frankly, you have no right. This is my body, and I will do  _as I please. >_

<Don’t be so selfish—>

<Selfish?! You don’t get to say that. I took  _your_ suggestion to leave  _my_  family behind!>

<I’m not doing this here.> Melbourne holds a hand up to Freydis’ face, angering her further. <We’re both under a great amount of stress—I just need a minute to cool down.> Melbourne adjusts his collared shirt before he takes his leave, Freydis stomping her foot in frustration. Meanwhile, Noralyn’s lip curls in shame.

<Oh my god—he didn’t’ know…and I screwed it all up. I am so,  _so_  sorry!> She pleads. <I had no idea—I promise you. I didn’t mean to act so careless!>

Freydis sighs. <I know you didn’t. It was my fault for keeping him in the dark as long as I did.> Radjerd knew Freydis better than that. She reveled in having the last word in fights, but Melbourne wasn’t having any of it. Granted, if he were in her husband’s shoes, he’d be downright furious. All things considered, Melbourne handled the news like a champ.

Noralyn wipes tears from her eyes when she breathes a sigh of relief. <Well he better be excited—a baby is nothing but a blessing.>

<I don’t know, watching you run about with your boy is making me consider adoption.> Freydis chuckles. Noralyn frowns, clearly displeased with Freydis’ joke. <But seriously, you let the  _little man_  run your life. Scratch that, both men. You need to learn to take charge, call the shots. You’re the glue that holds your family together, it’s about time you start taking your mantle as boss.>

Clearly, there was dialogue that Radjerd missed—had the two talked about husbands? Of course, they did… He sighs internally,  _women._

<No, I’m not as strong willed as you are, Freydis. My husband won’t listen to me.>

<Well, you wanna know what will catch his attention?> Freydis lowers her voice, <Refuse to put out.>

Noralyn covers her face in embarrassment—her face burning a nasty colour of red.

<No, I’m serious. It’ll make the man listen, I assure you.> She eyes Radjerd, knowing full well he’s listening in on the conversation. <Learn from her husband’s mistakes, and don’t be a moron. I  _will_  tell that cute little wife of yours to keep her distance if you try to control her.> Freydis cocks a grin. <Or, I’ll just take her for myself.>

He frowns, getting a chuckle out of Noralyn.

<Freydis, don’t tease him like that.>  

<Rad’s fine. But seriously, you’re positively scrumptious, there’s no way he’ll survive without a dip in the pot with you.>

<Freydis!> She turns her head away from the Elite. <What a thing to say—I’m not—I’m not pretty!>

<Shut up. You’re gorgeous.> Freydis winks. <Honestly, if I knew all of you Inkling girls were so cute, I’d have waited to marry my stick in the mud of a husband—I kid of course.> Freydis adds when she sees Noralyn’s terrified expression.

<You shouldn’t say things like that! Someone might take it the wrong way!>

<Or the right way. God, you Inklings are so posh. It’s both intriguing, yet tiresome.> She shakes her head dismissively.

<It’s called manners.> Noralyn raises a brow.

<Manners, eh? Like  _blurting_  out that I was expecting against my own wishes?> She raises a brow back, her lips curving into a coy grin. <Sweetie, if you’re going to be throwing accusations out like  _well mannered_ , then you have to live by example.>

<I never!> Noralyn gasps. <W-Well, it was a mistake, surely, but  _why_ would you hide such a detail like that from your husband?>

Her smile falls instantly.

<Now that’s none of your business.> Her face sours. <And it’s best if you learn to stay out of the business of others, missy.>

Noralyn’s brown eyes moisten at Freydis’ reply. She frowns, looking at her feet, her hands clamped together. Her face was white from shame, her nerves bristling with regret. A sigh echoes from the Inkling’s lips as she turns her head to the Elite Octoling.

<I didn’t mean to be rude… I’m sorry, really.> She sighs. <Honestly, I’m jealous of you. The way you address your husband, how he  _listens_  to you? Mine is either too busy, or he treats me like a child…>

<He does look older.> Freydis hmms. <Ten years, if I were to guess.>

<Almost, nine and a half.> Noralyn says triumphantly. 

Freydis rolls her eyes, she was close enough. <How did you two meet?>

Freydis and Noralyn have a cordial conversation about how the orange haired Inkling had met her husband, the two bonding over similar experiences. It was strange, how the two were so alike yet different in subtle ways. Radjerd could sense the two would become fast friends.

<And for earlier, forgive me. I’m a little ashamed of myself for keeping my husband in the dark as long as I have. I don’t feel too good about that. I’d rather him not pester me about things he knows nothing about.> 

<I understand… I was shocked when I found out that Otis was in Octo Canyon instead of at work, you know? I could throttle him for lying, but, at the same time I understand why he did it—because he had his reasons—like you did I suppose.> A blush crosses her pale complexion. <It must be hard to be an Octoling on the surface.>

<My husband and I will have to get used to life up here.> Regret crosses the Elite’s face. <But my man Rad over here has helped us transition.>

<I’d be more than happy to help you get your footing—once things calm down. I’m sure Cordelia will too—once she’s home again. I tell myself every day that I’m happy she didn’t kill me.>

Noralyn squeaks. <Kill…you? You’re kidding.>

<I’m not.> Freydis’ blue eyes travel to Radjerd. <Aren’t I right, old boy?>

Radjerd nods dismissively.

<But how?>

<Sweetie, didn’t your husband tell you about Agent 4?>

<Agent  _what?_ > The orange haired Inkling scratches her head.

<Oh boy, well, our Cordelia is no other than an Agent. She met her new hubby through a secret mission, did you not Raddy boy?>

<Ah! But she said they were colleagues!>

<Yeah, colleagues that share more than their after-hours time hitting the sheets.>

<Freydis, cut it out!> Radjerd stands from his chair. <I think now is hardly the time to carry on with such jokes.>

<Now is exactly the time.> She shakes her head. <You need to keep your wits about you, or you’re going to lose your cool. Don’t you remember what we learned in training?>

<I do.> Radjerd mutters. Freydis was right—but he wasn’t in the mood to admit it. It was hard enough for him to hold it together as it was. He didn’t need others dangling Cordelia’s memory in front of him.

<Oh thank god!> All three residents turn their head towards the hall following the cheerful echo. It was Aleck, who had arrived in the living room mere seconds after his expressive delight. His face appears ten years younger—redness lines his cheeks.

<Merise finally did it—she got Congress to listen!>

<Wonderful!> Noralyn clasps her hands together.

<So what does that mean? Is this the time where we get to blow that scumbag General’s face in—oh shit, sorry.>

<It’s …understandable. I know he wasn’t good to you.> Aleck nods softly. <But please, may I ask that if you’re to partake, please don’t hurt Fitz. I will compensate you greatly.>

<Nah, I won’t hurt him. I mean, you’re his papa—he’s got to listen to you.> She lets out a laugh.

<Aleck, you were saying?> Radjerd stands up, eager to hear what the Inkling man knows.

<Merise and Agent 1 are on their way as we speak. They’re going to fill us in on the plan, and what we’re to do next. Now lad, I know and admire your dedication to my daughter, but you  _have_  to listen to them. There is no deviating from the plan, or else it won’t work. We’re on the heels of war—every step we take  _has_  to be calculated. We don’t have the luxury to screw up.>

<I gave you my word.> Radjerd says flatly. <I won’t mess this up.>

A flash of worry crosses Freydis’ stare when they meet eye contact. Given Radjerd’s history, he can understand why she’s concerned. For Cordelia’s sake, he would not stray from the plan, no matter what it required.

He will do whatever it takes to bring Cordelia home.


	40. Chapter 40

Cordelia couldn’t believe two full weeks had passed since her wedding. She had grown nostalgic for the trees above ground, the sun shining on her skin. It had been dismal weather here, if she can call the environment she experienced weather at all. It was dark and dreary, like the cloudy horizon before a thunderstorm.

The General hadn’t given Cordelia any reason to worry about her safety. He was civil, respectful and kind. In a weird fashion, she had almost started looking forward to his company—maybe he wasn’t as harsh as she thought him to be. He had shown remorse for their father’s neglect—or Aleck as he would refer—that he hadn’t responded to any of his calls. Good, the Agents must have kept her father on the straight and narrow. Cordelia knows that her father would easily give in to any demands that the General would have done—especially if he was threatening Cordelia’s safety. Her days had been switched up when the General had brought the little guy—Denton—to visit. He was cute, but rowdy. Were all kids Landon’s age destined to be so fussy? But, she warmed up to the little guy—even teaching him a little Inklish. He was a fast learner—and, the kid took her mind off of her current imprisonment.

It had been a challenge to focus on his ramblings, for her own stomach was in perilous knots. Tried as she might, she couldn’t hide it from the General—she hardly kept her food down. He was worried that she had contracted an illness from the outside, so he decided to bring in a doctor—one who would keep silent about the operation. The doctor he had brought in to examine her was a stern Octoling woman. Her silver hair was tied back in a low bun, her spectacles gleamed from the fluorescent light above. Her eyes were intimidating; Cordelia was afraid to talk to the woman in question. As with the species divide, she assumed that the woman would refuse to help the Inkling, but it was quite the opposite. She had ushered the General to leave the room—private matters, and the like. It was nice to see that the doctor respected the confidentiality of her patients, regardless of the situation.

Doctor Forbes, as Cordelia remembered her name to be—had opened up with questions about Cordelia’s history, the conditions that the General had left her in—and—the food he was feeding her. It had been the same meat, potatoes and veggies she had been used to up above—which wasn’t what she had expected. The General had explained that his mother’s cooking was influenced by her time spent at the Firthe Manor, but he refused to stray off topic. Cordelia had been curious to learn about the man’s upbringing—but he was pretty tight-lipped about that as well.

The Doctor went as far as to ask about her  _personal_ encounters, which Cordelia immediately denounces. While her tastes in pleasure were slightly unorthodox, she pointed to her bicep. She had taken shots every three months to prevent any  _accidents_ —as she stressed through gritted teeth. How dare this doctor assume she’d end up doing so foolish—she’d never wind up pregnant. Raising an amused brow, the woman shook her head as she wrote on her clipboard. Cordelia emphasizes her nervous spells, and the doctor concluded that it could be under the stress she was under, but she wanted to take some further tests. It had been a chore for the doctor to ask for a blood sample, Cordelia was not handing it over that easily. Who knows what she would have done with her DNA—Cordelia was not interested in being used for any diabolical Octarian experiences. The doctor asks her plain and simple—give her a sample of blood, and she will be able to diagnose her illness. Even though Cordelia was suspicious, in the end, she gave in. If this doctor was going to take her blood with the notion of using it for science, she would have flat out just said so. Taking a sample of her blood, she slipped her vial into the pocket of her lab coat. The doctor asked if the General was allowed to see her test results—Cordelia nods. She had nothing to hide (and perhaps if it was a serious illness, he would let her go to spare her life).

Cordelia blinks, attempting to bring her thoughts back to the present. The General hadn’t reported back to her regarding her test results, so she must have been right—her nervous spells were coming back at full force. She sits up from her bed, adjusting the collar of the simple white dress the General gave to her. Cordelia’s eyes linger on her wedding gown. It hung on the drawer of the armoire where she could see it—while she wasn’t the overly romantic type, it reminded her of what the Octoling had said to her during the vows.

_“I love you. Marry me please.”_

Those words couldn’t leave her head. A smile creeps upon her lips when she’s reminded of him. Hopefully, the Octoling wasn’t doing anything stupid—but she knew that was wishful thinking. She knew her family would keep him in check—if they could handle his recklessness.  Cordelia perks her head up when she hears her door open.

The General sits in his usual spot, a teapot in hand. Was it tea time already?  She had learned it wasn’t poisoned—and, much to her surprise was quite delicious. Cordelia had enjoyed what he had done to sweeten up the batch. Sure, the General had many shortcomings, but at least he knew how to brew a good pot of tea.

<How are you feeling?>

<Better.> It was the truth—of course, she hadn’t eaten yet.

<I was thinking…> The General pours her a cup, stretching over to hand it to her. She notices the teacup wobble in his grip. <About your future.>

<What about it?> She takes the cup from his hand, holding it under her nose to determine how hot it would be to sip.

<Do you really want to go back to the surface?>

<And why wouldn’t I? It’s my home after all.> Cordelia speaks incredulously.

<I know it is, but I can’t help but think you’d be much better here, with me.> He sighs, seeming to understand his soon to be suggestion would fall on deaf ears.

<You’re asking me to stay here, knowing full well I’m not interested.>

<Denton likes you—you’re the only family he knows.>

<I’m not family.> She glowers.

<You’re my sister—his aunt.>

<Look, I get that he’s your son and you want him to be around familial influences, but I’m not interested in staying here.>

<That’s rather disappointing. I’ve learned that I like your company, Cordelia.>

She could tell by the inflexion in his voice that he was serious. Cordelia didn’t  _dislike_ the General, but to stay here, in the Testing Facility? That was asking too much. She wanted to go home—to the beach house that she and the Octoling were promised.

The General continues, <And what good has that done you? You’re hitched to an idiot who’s destructive and will wind up dead in a few weeks.> He rolls his eyes. <I’d hardly call that someone who’s suited for a family role.>

Family role? God, this man really did have an obsession with  _family._  <What’s got you so concerned with The Octoling all of a sudden? You’re the one who exiled him from his home.>

<There you go, calling him the Octoling again. Do you even love him? I haven’t heard you call him by his name—not even once.>

<Of course I love him—why would I marry someone I didn’t love?> Cordelia crosses her arms. She did love him …in her own way.  

<For many reasons, like saving yourself from public shame.> He looks up and down briefly.

She eyes him suspiciously. <If you’re trying to turn me against the Octoling it’s not going to work.>

<See, you’re doing it again.> He shakes his head.

<I don’t see why you care.> She crosses her arms. <Why are you so obsessed with me calling him by his name all of a sudden?>

<Cordelia, you’re young. You have a long time to decide who you want to spend the rest of your life with. I just don’t think that “the Octoling” is a great choice for you.>

<Aleck thinks so.> Her cocked grin implies she’s trying to goad him. It works.

<Like he knows any better—the bastard abandons who he sees fit. That’s exactly what’s going to happen to you, Cordelia.>

<Are you implying that the Octoling’s going to leave me? Whatever for?>

<Look, men like him will never be ready to shoulder any responsibility. And our idiot of a father is too dim to realize that. Why don’t you try to let me help you—at least for a little while. I deeply regret what took place between us when we met, but I promise you I will make up for my error in judgement.>  

<What are you talking about?>

The perplex expression on his face confuses her more. <I don’t think you’d believe me even if I told you.>

<Tell me what?>

The General purses his lips, she sees built up stress in his eyes. He seems nervous—on edge. That was unlike him.

<Cordelia, you're family—you might not understand this now, but I want the best for you.>

<Stop changing the subject. What won’t I believe?>

The General sighs. <When I come back, we’ll have a conversation.>

<I’m confused, when you come back?>

<Aleck isn’t answering my wires. I’ve decided that I’m paying him a visit. While I’m gone, Branton will help move you to my home, somewhere more  _comfortable_. By the time you’ve moved in, I’ll be back. Then, we can have a proper conversation about your test results. >

She narrows her eyes. She hadn’t heard a word about the doctor since her visit. Had they found something suspicious? He didn’t have the right to worry her like this.

<It’s nothing life-threatening, so be at ease.> 

<Then why mention anything at all?>

He shakes his head. <That was my poor judgement, I apologize.>

<Hold on, you’re not off the hook yet. What makes you think I want to live with you?>

<It’s much more comfortable than this cell, I can assure you. I want you to experience some comfort before you leave Octo Canyon. You might discover you enjoy what my humble abode has to offer.>

What kind of plan did he have in store for her? She’s weary, but of course she was on good grounds to be. He was deliberately hiding information from her—purposely baiting her with his words. Was this so she would be lured into staying? No, she had to focus on the positive—his leaving the facility would mean that she would have the time she needed to escape!

<If that’s what you want to do.> She sighs.

<I’m worried about you, is all. I’m your brother—it’s my job to be concerned. I have no intention of keeping you here against your will after I communicate with Aleck. I know he’ll barter for your freedom, and once he does, I’ll leave you the choice. Once I return, as I said, we’ll have a proper conversation.>

If she wants to escape, she had no choice but to agree with him.

<I hope you don’t plan on breaching my trust; we’ve gotten along fabulously over the last couple of weeks.>

<How would I do that?>

<By thinking you can escape. I’m leaving Branton with you—he’ll monitor you around the clock. Remember, Cordelia. I like you, but don’t think that grants you special privileges. I have instructed him to prevent you from leaving the premises without his assistance.>

Really, he was leaving her in Branton’s charge? The man who had the hots for her? Did the General know nothing about his assistant at all? Cordelia is more than positive that she could lure the man to her side with a simple kiss on the cheek. Hmm, that’s not a bad idea… She takes a sip of her tea. 

<I don’t plan on escaping—as you said, this place is guarded—this is the Testing Facility after all. It’d be hopeless to escape.> She sounds as disinterested as possible to give the illusion of helplessness. <Besides you need a card to get anywhere around here, even I know that.>

<You’re smarter than I gave you credit for. That’s good to hear.> He smiles, placing his teacup on the saucer. She’s noticed he hardly touched his cup

<Of course.> She nods.

<I’ll leave the rest to you.> He stands up, shaking his shoulders from the stiffness Cordelia assumes he feels—those chairs were rather uncomfortable. It’s why she opted to stay on her bed.

<I’ll see you at home.> His voice is warm as he closes the door.

Cordelia ponders her next move. If Branton was in charge of keeping an eye on her, that should be easy to manoeuvre. She’s managed to get sweets out of the man, and all she had to do was ask him in a delicate tone. There’s no way he could resist the charms she was about to pull. She eyes the gown hanging on the armoire—it was frilly enough that she could stick items of importance underneath—like potential weapons. It was a long shot, but worth a try.

Cordelia hears footsteps down the hall—indicating that Branton was arriving with her lunch. Quickly, Cordelia pinches her cheeks to make them slightly rosier. 

She takes a deep breath—She had to be convincing.

<Hello, Miss Firthe.> His smile is wide as he brings in a tray of the same old meat, potatoes and veggies.  

<Oh, great timing.> If this didn’t work, she’d feel like an idiot. <I was hoping you could get my dress off the armoire for me—I’m in the mood to put it on.>

<But Miss, we’re supposed to move soon. Are you sure the gown is conducive to movement?>

<I hardly have any belongings here, and I long to wear it again.> Cordelia smiles her sweetest smile.

<How about you wear the dress when we reach General Chalmers’ manor?> He asks politely.

<Yeah, you see I thought about it, but I’m starting to feel dreary in this room—and it’d really brighten up my mood if I could wear it.> She pouts.

<Well, if it helps to bring your spirits up I suppose I could help.> He steps over to the garment and reaches for the hanger, handing the dress to Cordelia. He turns to leave, but she calls him back.

<Please stay, I need your help zipping me up.>

His face reddens from the suggestion.

<No need to look so shocked—it’s not like I’m propositioning you.> She laughs, pulling the simple white dress over her head. She knows full well her lacy undergarments will pique his interest.

His stare lingers on her exposed skin—just like she anticipated.

<Could I ask that you help me into my dress for the time being? It’d be a great help.>

<But…!>

She bites the bottom lip of her dress as she brings her buttermilk hair around to her shoulder. <I can’t reach the zipper, and I don’t want to tear my dress. You’d be doing me a favour.>

Cordelia steps into the skirt of her dress, lifting the top around her chest. She slips her arms into the draped sleeves, leaving her back exposed. <Are you going to stand there and let me freeze?>

<Of course not!> The man stumbles on his words. She feels the man’s hands shake as he reaches for the zipper, his stare burns on her back.

<This doesn’t seem decent.> He says in an innocent tone.

<It’s not bad, you’re just helping me change that’s all.>

<If the General find out, he’ll kill me.>

<Let me handle the General.>  

She feels his hands tremble at the contact, as the sweet sound of the zipper makes its way to her ears.

 _There we go_.

Let the man enjoy this—she thinks to herself. If he did, he’d be a lot more lenient on her freedom. She instinctively freezes when she feels his bare fingers on her back—maybe she didn’t like this as much as she thought. No, she had to keep focused. It’s not like she was going to let him have his way with her, he was only assisting her with her dress.

There. She notes that the dress fits snug around her hips, as it did before the wedding. She liked the feeling—it made her feel slim. She takes her seat, ready to devour the lunch Branton had provided for her. She stares at him as he twiddles his thumbs—the man was  _still_  picturing her in her underwear.  _How adorable._

<You can sit if you’d like.>

<If you don’t mind the company.> He takes a seat in the General’s spot, across from her as she devours the meat and potatoes.

<Would you like some?> Cordelia gestures to her plate.

<No, you need all the nutrients you can get—General Chalmers instructed it so.>

<What about some tea?>

<I’ll pass, thank you.>

Silence befalls the room as she eats her meal. Branton stares at the table, seeming like he’s determined not to make eye contact with her. Was he really that worked up over seeing a half-naked woman?

<So, I was hoping you could do me a favour.>

<What kind of favour?> He raises a brow.

<I’ve been longing to stretch my legs—get one last look of the place before we leave, you know? I was hoping you could grant me that privilege?>

<Well, I don’t see why not…>

Really, it was that easy?

<...As long as you behave yourself. I don’t want to have to report anything to the General.>

<I assure you, Branton, I won’t do anything reckless.> She smiles, catching his interest. <I was hoping we could get to know each other a little better—you know, before I leave.>

Cordelia feels her nerves jumble at the prospect of escape. She was so close, all she had to do was keep the assistant’s attention.

<That’s funny, I was kind of hoping the same thing.> He chuckles nervously. <I remember hearing the General comment how your marriage to the traitor was for show—I was hoping he was right you know.>

God, he was  _too_  easy.

<Why did you decide to marry him?>

<Reasons.> Cordelia shrugs. <My father liked him, and I was tired of hearing how I was going to end up a lowly spinster for the rest of my days.> Her father never said any such thing, but he didn’t have to know that.

<I see.> He ponders.

<When does my brother leave?>

<He’s already left.> Man, the General wasted no time whatsoever. 

<Great, can you take me out for a stroll?>

<If you’re ready, sure. Use your slip-on shoes, the tiling is freezing to the touch.>

<Of course, I don’t plan on leaving barefoot.> Cordelia takes a deep breath, excitement fills her belly. She couldn’t believe how easy this was.  

<I suggest that we go outside. There is a garden area that I think you might enjoy.>

<No, I want to see the cells.> If there is anything she could swipe, the cells would be a great place to check. There were often storage units that held seized weapons. If she could get her hands on one, she could easily turn the tides of her capture.

<The cells? Why on earth would you want to see something so dismal?>

<Morbid curiosity. My  _brother_  tells me that I’m so lucky to be in a unit like suite, I want to see if he’s just saying that.>

<He’s not.> The man’s face is stoic. <It’s miserable. Believe me.>

She didn’t want to see it personally, but she couldn’t look too eager to escape either. If the Research Facility taught her anything it was that she needed a card to get around. If she were extremely lucky, she might be able to swipe Branton’s card too.  

 

Moisture dripped from the ceiling, the halls smelled dank and musty. Damn, Branton wasn’t joking when he said that the cells were a dismal place.

<He wanted to keep you out of these parts, for obvious reasons.> Branton speaks as she observes the hallway. She was praying for a storage unit, but so far, nothing.  

<Most of the cells are empty.> He begins to speak. <The victims have already been put to use.>

<Victims?> Cordelia feels her stomach churn.  

<I don’t think it’s proper that I share that information, I didn’t mean to bring it up…> The man’s golden eyes dart back and forth as he rubs his hands with uncertainty.

Judging by the dirtiness of the cells, she’s not sure she wants to know either.

<Your brother is a good man.> The man emphasizes out of turn. <He’s only trying to free us from this underground prison. I admire the hard work and dedication he’s put into our cause.>

<By kidnapping his own sister?>

<Please believe me when I say that he has harboured no ill will towards you. He doesn’t hate you for what you are, he accepts you for who you are.

Her steel blue eyes search through the damp hall—just empty cells, and no storage unit. Dammit. She couldn’t ask him to take her to the weapons floor—that’d be asking for trouble… But, there was one last card she could pull. If she had Branton’s keycard, that would grant her the freedom to explore the facility. It was clipped next to his pocket, in hand’s reach of her own. If she could lure him into one of those empty cells, maybe she could swipe his card, and trap him inside. She didn't want to bear ill-will to the innocent and naive man, but it was her best chance for escape.

<This is going to sound really weird, but, I feel like down here is the only place I could ask you.>

He cocks his head in confusion.

<You see, I-I don’t know how to say this, but your hands—they’re big and strong—god, I just want you to stroke me with them.> She flings herself against the man’s torso, positioning her arm accordingly. She backs him into an open cell, praying he can’t sniff out her lie.

<Miss Firthe!> He gasps, his face beet red as she musters an innocent pout. <This is highly indecent.>

<But that’s what I like about you. Handsome, unassuming.> She thrusts her hand against his waist, managing to unclip the keycard while pressing her chest up against his. <I just can’t take it anymore!>

He blinks at her, his bottom lip quivering. She could see the cogs turning in his head—he debates what he wanted to do at that moment. She jumps when he forces her into a kiss—she instantly regrets her thoughtless actions.

<I’ve thought the very same since the moment we’ve met.> He smiles as he lets her go, his face growing redder. <You’re hot for an Inkling.>

Cordelia clips the keycard in the fold of her gown before she backs up against the wall. Now that she had his card, she needed to act before he realized he was duped.

<You’re a fantastic, attentive man. My brother should give you a promotion.> She speaks in an alluring tone as she peeks her head through the open crevice. <Don’t mind me, I’m just checking to see if anyone’s noticed us.> She leaves the cell, closing her eyes as she taps the card it against the keypad. The door slams shut. 

The flash of betrayal on his face is …hard to watch.

<I’m sorry Branton, really, I am.> Cordelia speaks as the man pounds against the closed, plexiglass door. He didn’t deserve to be led on, but she couldn’t wait any longer. She didn’t have time to lament her mistakes—she needed to escape, and fast.

Cordelia scurries down the hall. She has no idea where she’s going, the damn signs don’t make a lick of sense to her. Why did everything have to be written in god-damn Octarian! She panics when she hits a dead end—shit, the elevators were on the other side—where she had abandoned the General’s assistant.

But, something more alarming catches the Inkling’s eye. A woman in a nearby cell, flopped over on a wooden bench.

The girl’s short frosted tips were a dead giveaway—she was none other than the missing Idol.

“Pearl!?”


	41. Chapter 41

Radjerd sits on the ornate couch, his fingers playing with the edges of his grey dress shirt. Aleck had lent him extra clothing during his stay, as his bag didn’t house enough shirts to cover the extension. Surprisingly, the Inkling man’s clothing had fit—even though it was a bit snug around the arms.

Waiting was the hardest part—Merise, Cordelia’s mother, was due to come back soon with a plan. Aleck’s confident that his wife would pull through—he admired her ability to complete the task, no matter how daunting it may be. To the Octoling’s relief, he had the company of Freydis and Noralyn—who were chatting politely amongst themselves. He was surprised that Freydis’ husband didn’t make an appearance—he must have still been tense over being the last person to find out about Freydis' pregnancy.

Radjerd’s eyes travel around the room in an attempt to distract himself. Two framed pictures hung side by side on the wall—one of a young Aleck and Merise smiling at a park—an autumn tree decorated the background with yellowish red leaves. He was kissing her on the forehead, his wife (or girlfriend, he’s not really sure) was smiling like a girl in love. He’s surprised how much Cordelia resembled Merise in her youth, although he shouldn’t have been. She is Cordelia’s mother, after all. The next one was a stark change in the woman’s demeanor—Aleck and Merise’s wedding photo. She seemed happy at first glance, but her smile was stressed—it was plain to see the marriage wasn’t founded on love, even though Aleck’s face was bursting with elation. Below it was a photo of Aleck and a young Cordelia—he guessed three years old—smiling underneath the same tree Aleck and Merise had been photographed years prior. He recalled Cordelia resembling her father but seeing the man much younger really emphasized it. Radjerd couldn’t help but be slightly jealous. Cordelia’s family appeared cold and distant at first, but when it came down to it, they would do anything to keep her safe. If only his own flesh and blood would have done the same…

<Admiring the wall?> Aleck pipes up.

Radjerd nods.

<I’ll show you my favourite photo.> He digs for his wallet, handing it to the Octoling. His worn leather wallet reveals a small photo of a young Inkling woman holding a baby—Merise and Cordelia, he presumed. <Don’t tell Merise I told you, but it took her a while to come around to being a mother—to be honest I knew that she liked Cordelia, but it almost seemed like she was scared of her. One day, I decided to come home early to check up on Merise, and here she was, rocking our daughter back and forth.> His pride swells as his voice becomes raw with emotion. <It was a truly touching moment—my two girls coming together. My wife might appear cold at times, and she had made mistakes with Cordelia—as I have—but she really does love her.>

<Oh, I want to see baby Cordelia!> Freydis jumps up from the seat, scurrying to Radjerd’s side. She leans her hands on the arms of the chair, cooing over the photo. <I hope my child will be as cute. Babies are a lottery—they can either look like sweet angels or ugly horrid creatures.>

Aleck’s eyes linger on the Elite. Her tight maroon dress showed off each curve, showcasing her pouched belly. It was a wonder how Melbourne didn’t notice his wife’s condition beforehand. <When are you due?>

<I’m three months along.> Freydis beams, patting her midsection.

<How nice, it was an exciting time for me as well.> Nostalgia fuels his words. <You’re going to love them being young—it only becomes a real challenge when they grow up.> He chuckles. <I’m sure your husband is excited as well.>

<Yeah, he is.> Radjerd can tell Freydis' distant look that she doesn’t want to stir the mood. <I hope it’s a girl.>

<Good luck.> Noralyn laughs. <I was hoping for the same thing, but you love them no matter what.>

<I am not dealing with a stinky son, no offence.> Freydis squints her eyes.

<You start to get used to the stink.> Noralyn chuckles while batting a hand in the Elite's direction.

<Mmm, I think I might keep you around for a while, Noralyn. I’ll need a person to help me through all this  _mom_  stuff, and you seem perfectly knowledgeable in the subject.>

<Trust me, I’m not great at it. But, if you want a friend who can  _understand_ , I’m more than happy to oblige. I can tell you from experience, that your friends without kids won’t want to visit after the newness of your baby wears off.>

<Honey, don’t tell me your friends abandoned you…> Freydis didn’t have to finish her sentence before her mood drastically changes. <I’ll kill them.>

<No need.> Freydis’ proclamation makes the orange haired Inkling grin. <I get it, Turf War was their life—as it was mine. I didn’t expect them to be distracted by my son. He’s at that age where—well—he’s rambunctious.>

<Then why does your husband want to labour you with another one? Your first seems like a handful.>

<Long story.> Noralyn short-cut tone tells that she wants to ends it there.

<I can attest, my Delia was a handful too. It was embarrassing to bring her to social functions—I had to bribe her with lollipops—specifically bubblegum flavoured. She’d cry if we gave her anything else. I expect she started learning how to game the system then.> His chuckle is infectious.

<I don’t know Cordelia well, but I can see her being that way as a kid.> Noralyn’s laugh follows. <How did you and your wife manage?>

Aleck nods, <We understood each other and were a team. Our daughter didn’t dupe us for long—eventually, she stopped making a fuss.>

<So how did the old girl score a catch like you?> Freydis grins.

To pass the time, the Inkling man would share the olden days, what life was like with Merise before Cordelia was born. To all the recipients in the room’s surprise, it sounded like Merise was a carefree youth with big dreams, and Aleck delighted in her inspiration, a stark difference to what Radjerd saw in the woman.

<She used to dance circles around me at the balls her parents hosted.> He laughs heartily. <She was light on her feet, and in the sheets—erm—never mind that.> His reddened cheeks indicate that Merise wasn’t always the posh woman she portrayed herself to be.

<So your wife is a hot fuck, I admire that.> Freydis crosses her legs as she folds her arms.

<Oh my god...> Noralyn groans, somewhat copying Freydis’ sitting position. <You can’t just say those things—he’s our  _host_. >

<Come off it, you always know those posh types are wizards in the bedroom.>

Aleck’s face turns bright red—not that Radjerd can blame him.

<You’re embarrassing Aleck!>

<Am I?> Freydis tilts her head in the older man’s direction. <My apologies.>

<Don’t worry about it—my mistake, really.> He can tell Aleck is clamouring to change the subject. <My wife’s an elegant dancer. It’s a shame she didn’t get to dance at the wedding—she was looking forward to it.>

So was Radjerd… No, he wasn’t going to get solemn now. He had to be at full alert—he’d be useless to Cordelia sulking about.

<I’m sure she would have been great.> Noralyn chimes in.

<Dancing? Well, if that’s what you want to think—I prefer to think that your wife’s one of those—nevermind.> She stops talking when Noralyn shoots her a dirty look. <Gee, you have that mother’s stare down-pat.>

<Of course I do.> The orange haired Inkling turns her head upward.

<It’s kind of hot.>

<Alright Freydis.> Radjerd speaks, narrowing his eyes. <Can you behave yourself please?>  

<You of all people shouldn’t be such a stick in the mud, Raddy boy. You  _used_  to be one of us before you got corrupted by Inkling Society—no offence, Aleck.>

<None taken.> He catches the smile on Aleck’s lips.

<See, if your daddy-in-law can take the heat, you should be more than open to.> Freydis slouches over next to the orange haired Inkling. <I’m just trying to lighten the mood you know—nothing like a poor mood to break morale.>

<She’s right, lad.> Aleck folds his hands as he straightens up his back. <I can appreciate the laugh.>

<I’m with Radjerd on this. Freydis, your behaviour is inappropriate.>

The Elite rolls her eyes. <Whatever you say,  _princess_. >

Princess? That was Cordelia’s nickname. Radjerd rubs his index finger with his thumb as he purses his lips. Has he gotten to the point where even a simple nickname has gotten under his skin? Now wasn’t the time to have doubts, Merise was on her way—and with her was a plan. A plan to bring Cordelia back. He had to have faith.

The four perk up when they hear the front door open; Merise and her entourage appear—Radjerd’s lips curl when he sees the black haired Agent—with another Inkling man and—Marina? He braces himself, waiting for the white haired bitch to come out of the woodwork, but to his surprise (and relief), she doesn’t appear. In her place is a tank of a man—Otis, his old acquaintance. Noralyn immediately hops to her feet when she sees her husband.

<Honey, how did it go?>

He bends down and kisses her on the forehead. <Great. And, despite my better judgement, you’re cleared to join—should you wish to.>

Noralyn grins—she wanted to participate in the mission. Thanks to her Turf skills, she was cleared past safety. She would need a bit of practice before she headed down below, but hopefully, they wouldn’t need to draw their weapons.

Radjerd’s eyes are on Merise when she enters the living room, her stern face bore a great amount of stress. Regardless, she held her chin high. She speaks Inklish next to the strange Inkling man beside her. His hair was pulled back by a black twist tie, a stray piece falling to the side of his face. It was a similar green to what Cordelia’s was when they had first met—his skin almost the same colour—hell, his eyes were even blue.

Great, another asshole Inkling that was likely going to trample his authority all over the place. To his misfortune, the Inkling man notices Radjerd’s stare and walks over to introduce himself.

<Nice to meet you.> He smirks, sticking out his hand.

Radjerd pulls away instantly. Why the fuck did this one know how to speak Octarian, yet the others didn’t?

<You look confused—let me guess—you didn’t expect me to speak your tongue?> He says in a cocky manner.

<I’d rather you didn’t talk at all.> Radjerd mumbles.

<That hurts.> He laughs, clearly thinking that Radjerd’s standoffish behaviour is a joke. It’s not. <I get that you Octolings can be testy. Not long ago did I work with an Octoling—in fact, he looked very similar to you—except he had poofier hair.> He accentuates a circle around his head.

<Great.> He rolls his eyes—uninterested in the Inkling’s backstory.

<I’m Agent 3.> The Inkling sticks out his hand again. <I’ll be working with you to retrieve your wife.>

<You’re as skinny as a twig—how are you going to be of any use?>

<That’s rude, but I’ll let it slide—I understand that you’re under a lot of stress. I assure you, we know what we’re doing—and we will get Agent 4 back.>

<Cordelia.> He firmly states. <My wife’s name is Cordelia.> Radjerd doesn’t want to remember her status as an agent. It’s what got them into this bloody mess to begin with.

<Apologies. I will do whatever I can to bring  _Cordelia_  home.>  The Inkling sticks his hands in his fluorescent coloured vest. <But you’d be best to lose the attitude, or this might turn out badly.>

<What did you imply?> He becomes defensive.

<That you better behave yourself.> The Inkling’s eyes narrow. Radjerd had to admit, he was surprised at the tonal shift in the man’s voice, but Otis intervenes, pulling the Octoling aside.

<Radjerd, we’re attempting to help you. No need to bite the poor guy’s head off.> He whispers.

<I’m sick of Agents. This is what got Cordelia into trouble in the first place.>

<If it weren’t for her status as Agent 4, I highly doubt you’d even know of her existence.> Otis reminds him. <Everything happens for a reason.>

Radjerd frowns deeply, he hates that Otis is right. <I thought you were supposed to be the doctor, not the organizer.>

<Considering I was stationed in Octo Canyon for Intel, I’d say I’m qualified as both.> Otis grins, patting Radjerd’s shoulder. <Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare my speech.>

Otis’ eyes survey the room, ensuring that he had the attention of both Radjerd and Freydis. Merise decided to let him explain the plan, considering the dominant language in the room was Octarian. Agent 1 and Agent 3 stood near the side, they appeared to be conversing in Inklish. Both immediately come to attention when Otis has the floor. Marina stands next to him with a laptop in hand.

<Now, before I begin, I want to inform all that this will be a perilous mission. I want all to understand that this might be a mission that you might not be able to come back from—the measures we’re about to perform are extremely risky.> Otis waits until others nod before continuing, <We have confirmed that General Fitzpatrick Chalmers is a man who’s got a vengeance—he’s climbed through the ranks extraordinarily fast, despite his Inkling heritage. He took charge after the Special Forces Unit claimed Octavio—from Agent 4’s heroic actions.> Radjerd notices Aleck bristle immediately. <Since then, we became undernote of Aleck’s infliction with the law—patenting weapon blueprints for the creation of the mini-rainmakers—which halted as soon as Agent 1 placed him under house arrest. After such acts had been halted, it seems that the General decided to take revenge, capturing Agent 4 after her wedding—as a bargaining chip for Aleck to agree to his demands. The wire demands as just that—demands.>

Radjerd looks around—the mood in the room was tense and filled with an air of unpredictability.

<Under Marina’s employment with the Special Forces Unit, she has been working to locate the wire’s address—which we have discovered to be at the Testing Facility, Marina, if you may?> He gestures a hand out towards the middle of the room, where Marina takes her stand.

She clears her throat before starting, <As some of you may know, I used to serve under the regiment of Octarian Army. Not anymore. I stand before you as proof that I am on your side.> She begins, lowering her head. <The Agents have been working tirelessly to bring my Pearlie home, and I, in turn, am forever grateful for their efforts. To show my gratitude, I will implore my skills to help this cause—aiding my efforts to reach the Testing Facility. It can be only accessed through the DeepSea Metro, which only a few have access to that station. That’s where I come in—when the Agents have been deployed, I will transmit the signal upon arrival. You will only have a quick time window—seven minutes. Five is too short, eight is too long. I have no doubt General Chalmers has his own league of transmission experts on his side—so we have to act fast. We don’t know where Cordelia’s held within the facility—and, I don’t want to hack their security camera until  _after_  we interrupt the signal. Once in, then I can radio you and take a chance with the security system since they will have already sensed an interference. We will have to act fast.> She bows her head.

Anticipation was building in Radjerd's chest. The Testing Facility was so close, they were heading right to it. Saving Cordelia was his optimal goal, but he could finally achieve his dream. 

<That’s when we’re going to take the opportunity to strike the Testing Facility, right?> Radjerd stands up for emphasis. <Marina, I’m sure you can remember what risk they will pose to our people in the long run. Is there anything you have in place that can detonate it?>

<Unless you want to take down hundreds of lives with it, then I suggest we keep on target.> She frowns. <Destroying it will be a declaration of war—a war we’re trying to prevent.>

<But we’re so close, we have the chance—>

<I thought you dropped this moronic behaviour, Radjerd. You have a responsibility to Cordelia—and you  _still_  think of that facility? God, I thought you dropped the reckless act.>

Radjerd raises his voice, <Destroying that facility  _will_  help Cordelia, as well as the other Inkopolis residents. As long as that building is operational, Inkopolis is at risk as long as the General has access to it. We’d be moronic to leave it intact!>

<Marina is right.> Otis raises his hand. <One thing at a time.>

<If you don’t shut up, you’ll be a threat to our mission. For once in your god damn life, listen.> Freydis curses loudly. The Octoling is tempted to yell back, but he doesn’t. <And don’t you dare think you’re going to sneak off and play hero—I will kill you myself if you try.>

<Settle down.> Otis raises his hand again.

<No, I know Radjerd, and I’m sick of his bullshit. He’s going to get himself killed.>

<For god’s sake, don’t you think I know better by now? I wouldn’t get myself killed on purpose. But you  _have_  to understand—if we get past the facility’s firewall, we have a real chance to detonate it.>

Freydis flails her hands. <I can’t believe it—minutes ago, you were all for Cordelia’s rescue, and now? You’re putting her very life at risk!>

<How dare you, I’ve thought of nothing but Cordelia’s safety for  _weeks_ , if you didn’t take your god damn time floundering over here to warn us about the General’s plan.>

<I’ve put my  _life_  on the line for you, and here you are, being an ungrateful bastard—>

<Enough!> Aleck silences the room. <I understand the need for Octolings to express themselves, but this is  _hardly_  the time for it. Both of you need to sit down, be quiet, and  _listen_  to instructions.>

Both Radjerd and Freydis blink at the man’s raised voice.

<I’m sorry.> She bows her head. She glares at Radjerd to do the same. He does. 

<Now please Marina, continue.>

<…I understand your concerns, Radjerd. I do, really. But, it’d require a sheer amount of luck—luck that we might not have if we’re trying to save Cordelia. And, as I stated before, a declaration of war is the last thing we need.>

<Look, if it comes down to Cordelia or the destruction of the Testing Facility, I will  _always_ pick Cordelia. But we can’t just ignore the fact that we have complete access to the grounds either. Isn’t there something we can do?>

Otis steps in, <We could take more time to consider a plan, but I’m afraid if we do, Cordelia’s life might be at risk. Who knows how long the General will wait around?>

That's all Radjerd needs to hear. <When do we leave?>

<Tomorrow, if we’re ready for it.> Marina says.

Radjerd takes a deep breath. He will be ready.

_For Cordelia._


	42. Chapter 42

Cordelia couldn’t believe it. If her eyes hadn’t deceived her—no, it wasn’t her imagination. The Inkling before her—that was Pearl. She couldn’t make this up. Fumbling around in her skirts, she grabs the stolen card, swiping it to unlock her cell. She’s relieved that Branton had a master key, she doesn’t know what she would have done if it didn’t work. Seeing Pearl slumped over like that, could she have left the frosted tip inkling if she had no other means of rescuing her?

She’s relieved that it’s not something she had to think about.

She swoops in the cell, closing the door behind her. She catches a whiff of a putrid smell, her urge to vomit increases—she prays it’s not a corpse! She doesn’t have time to be sidetracked, she had to get Pearl out of here. Knowing her arm strength would be her foil, Cordelia bends down on her knees, wrapping her arms around the idol. She attempts to lift her up, but she feels the strain in her arms kick in.

She struggles to lift the Inkling to her feet. God, she didn’t imagine Pearl of all people would be so damn heavy! The Inkling groans in the woman’s arms. Blinking slowly, she comes to.

“I’m dreaming—why am I seeing Cordelia in a ballgown?” the weary Inkling mutters. “Not that it’s a bad dream—she looks hella good.”

Cordelia finds herself smiling over Pearl’s hazy compliment, but it was clear that the Inkling wasn’t mentally present. The weird smiling stupor she's in shows that very fact.

“Pearl, come on, we need to leave,” Cordelia whispers, despite wanting to scream it. She wasn’t mentally prepared for what came next.

“Here is good…Here is great…Why would I want to leave?” She’s still in her half-asleep stupor, batting Cordelia away with one hand. Shit, she still wasn’t fully awake. She sounded even more dreary than before.

“Pearl, we don’t have time for this.” Her voice is panicky. “Wake up!”

Fraught with nerves, Cordelia shakes the Inkling by her shoulders. Nothing was working… goddammit! She didn’t want to do this, but she fears that she has no choice.

She readies her hand, hoping that the idol won’t be upset after this.

A loud _smack_ rips across the Inkling’s cheek, her gold eyes open instantly. Within seconds, Pearl’s hand tugs on her hair.

“The _fuck_ was that for!” She exclaims in protest.

Cordelia grunts in discomfort, but it doesn’t outweigh the relief she feels for Pearl’s swift recovery. They didn’t have much time to act. “We have to get out of here. We’re stuck in the Testing Facility, and god knows what they have planned for us if we don’t escape.”

“Oh shit…” Pearl speaks softly. “Do you know how to get out of here?”

“I can get you out of the cell, but I’m not sure how to get out without being noticed…” Cordelia’s words feel hollow. She had _no_ plan, not one…

“We’ll find a way—that card you tucked in your chest should at least get us someplace.”

Right… Cordelia forgot she has tucked it there. She helps Pearl stand to her feet, the inkling understandably wobbling in place. When she gets a steady grip, she holds out her noticeably bruised arm.  “Those bastards locked me up here, hooked me up with some nasty ass shit too. Some asshole in a lab coat would prick my arm daily. I don’t even know how long I’ve been here for.”

“I was wondering, but that can wait until later. Are you ready to move yet?”

Pearl doesn’t wait for an explanation. “I might be a bit slow to start, but I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” It’s obvious that the frosted tip inkling needs some time to regain her mobility.

“Pearl, I need you to use your legs as best you can. I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to carry you, and we don’t have the luxury of time on our side.”

“I know, I know.” She says in a drunk like stupor. “We’re fucked either way I got it.”  

God, this was turning out to be as Pearl says, _fucked_ up situation.

Cordelia takes a deep breath, grabbing the woman’s wrist. It was time to go—and fast.

Cordelia pulls Pearl down the hall, scanning for the nearest exit… Fuck, she’d have to go back the way she came—that would mean seeing the Octoling Assistant she had previously trapped. Dammit.

She does her best not to get distracted by the man in the cell—until her curious eyes align with his. He stares daggers at her, understandably so. It’s _chilling_.

“What are you doing? Let’s go.” Pearl eggs her on. “We don’t have the time to wait.”

Cordelia mouths out an _I’m sorry_ , before she leaves the area, dragging Pearl behind her. They make it to the elevator—thankfully Pearl can read Octarian. The frosted tip inkling hits the down arrow, leafing them to the basement. Once the elevator door opens, they’re greeted with a damp and musty smell. The hallways are barely lit, except for a sliver of light down the hallway—if she knew any better, she’d say that was from a window. A window meant a thinly veiled barrier to their escape—finally, their luck was finally turning around! Pearl was picking up her pace, despite her previous weakness. Cordelia guessed it was her sheer determination to get out of this nasty place, who knew how long the Inkling was locked away down here?

“I’m willing to take a chance if you are,” Pearl whispers, her head barely touching the windowsill. It was high enough that Cordelia could easily lift Pearl out—she may have been fine walking, but climbing used a whole other set of muscles. They had to be careful—who knows what, or who could be lingering outside? She halts her breath before proceeding. This would take a great amount of luck to overcome.

“Are you sure you’re strong enough to climb?” Cordelia asks.

“Of course I am, who do you think you’re dealing with here, an amateur?” She chuckles weakly, “Besides, I have to try. Marina’s still out there—god knows how she’s holding up without me.”

Right. Pearl wouldn’t have known of Marina’s safe return. She was locked up in this cell for—well, it could have been possible that it had been for the duration of the Agents' investigation. She couldn’t tell Pearl now—they needed to focus on getting out of here. It might have been the driving force to Pearl’s eagerness, despite her weakened state.

The wall is cold, moist—they must have been the ocean’s edge, Cordelia can smell the saltiness of the air. It sent shivers throughout her body. She was so close toward the outside, she could literally taste it. Maybe a little too well, the smell sends her into a fit of nausea. She shakes it off—now was not the time for a queasy stomach.

“If you lift me up, I think I can unlock the window. The lock’s high, but it’s a traditional one—I can manage.”

Cordelia bends down, securing her hand out for Pearl to step on. She nods, Cordelia finding it hard to keep the frosted tip inkling balanced. She does her best, lifting the Inkling up—she reaches the window before she hears the telltale sound of the lock click!

Cordelia didn’t have time to celebrate—she hears footsteps approach them. If Cordelia were to guess who would foil their efforts—it’d be Elite Octolings. If Freydis was any indication, they were a menace to deal with.

Cordelia does her best to hoist Pearl out of the window faster, but she’s restrained before it’s too late. Dammit! Pearl falls back, also failing to escape from the window—for the love of it all… Cordelia yells, flailing in the Elite’s grip, but she’s not strong enough to combat the Elite’s grip. She lets out a cry for Pearl—the Inkling ferociously flails in place. She demands to be let go, before she lets out some serious damage, but, the Elites don’t know what she’s saying. One swipes her card, before mocking Pearl in Octarian.

<It’s okay small fry, I got you. You’re so small ...you’re like a baby.> One laughs.

<The General’s sister looks like a scrumptious little treat in this getup.> The other speaks, restraining Cordelia by her wrists.

<From how he’s been talking about her, I thought he’d have brought her along for his little trip above ground.> The Elite restraining Pearl replies.

<Yeah, the way he talks about her genuinely creeps me out… but the DeepSea Metro’s staff would have reported him if he brought the heiress along.>

<Then how did he bring the fancy dressed one down here without the DeepSea Metro staff noticing?> Both move in the direction of the elevator—it didn’t matter how aggressive Cordelia and Pearl thrashed around.

<Beats me—but remember, don’t be too rough with her. He said her condition is fragile.>

<He’s acting like _it’s_ his. >

The other Elite snickers. <Maybe it is.>

<You’re disgusting.>

<But you know what I mean, right? No one’s _that_ attentive to their sibling without some other motive. >

<Okay, I know you’re joking but that’s a bit too far.>

<I’m just saying.> She can feel the shrug in the woman’s shoulders—even so, Cordelia cannot get out of her grasp. This was infuriating! Pearl shakes her head avidly when Cordelia’s about to open her mouth. She sees the Inkling’s attempt to silence her last minute—deciding to withhold their tongue. The things they were saying about her—what they were implying—were completely untrue! But if Pearl was advising silence (or rather, ignorance), then she’d follow suit. Pearl would have faught back with words if she thought it was a good idea. Cordelia bites her cheeks to refrain from giving herself away.

<Just throw her in the cell below, throw _her_ in too. It annoys me how he gives this one special treatment. >

<Yeah, good idea.>

Cordelia’s annoyed. Did they realise she could understand them? Probably not given their lack of attention to their words. She’s mad that not even an hour after she escapes, she’s caught again. When the General finds out, he might revert back to his old manner—which Cordelia isn’t sure she wants to revisit. They approach the same elevator that Pearl and Cordelia travelled from. No doubt they were going to be jailed somewhere much worse, getting that suspicion from how the Elites were talking. 

<Wait a second—if they get infected—the General would have our heads if his precious sister got sick, because of—>

<Enough already. She won’t be in there for long—once we page the General, that is. We can’t keep her somewhere that isn’t monitored. We’ll make sure that someone keeps watch over the floor when we lock them up.>

Cordelia’s nauseous stomach drops, adding to her discomfort. God, she wouldn’t have long to find out. He was going to kill her.

 

<Now stay in there!> One of the Elites says triumphantly as she swipes her palms together. <You better hope that the General doesn’t kill you for disobeying him. He isn’t exactly the most forgiving.>

<You honestly think he’s going to harm a hair on her precious little head?>

<Don’t start this again.>

Both Elites walk down the hall, now arguing with each other. 

“Well, _fuck._ ” Pearl moans. “Now what?”

Cordelia leans against the wall, holding her arms together. There was a dampness to the air—her bare arms covered in goosebumps. They were thrown into one of the deeper level cells, worse than the floor Pearl was on. God... This was a nightmare. “I don’t know, but they took our card. We’re fucked.”

“I thought so.” Pearl sits on the bed, slumping in place. “I could taste the air outside—but I doubt we would have gotten very far, you know?

Cordelia nods. “You’re probably right…”

“So I noticed something—besides the Elite’s improper humour …General’s _sister_? That man’s a Firthe?”

“My dad had another kid before me, I only found out around a month ago, I think…” Cordelia groans. She wasn’t sure how long she had been in the Testing Facility…  

“So why are you here?”

“He kidnapped me to use as leverage against my father.” She stops, debating if she should continue—either way, she was screwed. “I suppose it should have been expected.”

“And what does he hope to accomplish, exactly?”

“My father is behind the stolen rainmaker—well, he says he’s not but I don’t believe him. He lied about so much already—and how the General is making mini-rainmakers to terrorize Inkopolis with.” She lowers her head. “So he kidnapped me, hoping that it would fuel his ambitions. Let’s just say that the Agents kept my father under wraps—he hasn’t responded to the General’s demands.”

“I see.” Pearl eases her chin onto her knees. “Do you think he will?”

“The General seems confident that I’m a fair bargaining tool.” Cordelia ponders. “But, he also said I should live with him, he’s developed quite a fondness for me.”

“I gathered from what the Elites were saying. But clearly, his fondness for you isn’t reciprocated.”

Cordelia shakes her head. “You're right...It isn’t.”

Pearl eyes her up and down, her gold eyes widen when she notices the wedding band. “You got _married!?”_

“I did…technically.” Cordelia laughs nervously. “It was more for protection than anything else… The General kidnapped me after my wedding.”

“He did, huh? Interesting…” Pearl tilts her head. “And who was in need of your protection?”

Cordelia presses her lips together as she moves away from Pearl’s glance.

“Oh, damn… it’s not that Octoling, is it?” Pearl slaps her knees. “Your silence says it all—it _is!”_

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Honey, you gotta spill the tea. Tell me _everything_. You totally got marked, didn’t you?” Pearl’s eyebrows wiggle.

Cordelia’s entire face flushes. She didn’t need to be talking about this with Pearl right now. “That hardly matters now, does it?”

“Of course it does—it’s the hottest thing I ever experienced. I know you know what I’m talking about, judging by how you’re clenching that skirt of yours.”

Had she been? Cordelia sees that the frosted tip Inkling is right.

_Shit!_

“I told you it was hot—and can’t say that I’m surprised, that letter he left you was hella steamy.” She winks.

God, Cordelia forgot about that letter. The Octoling shouldn’t have assumed that she could read Octarian, that was his biggest mistake.

“I mean, he did say how he was going to lick you out like a burrito—”

“Pearl, I don’t want to know what it said!” Cordelia’s cheeks burn as she cuts the Inkling off swiftly.

“What, it’s not like I got anything else to do. It’s taking my mind off of our imminent death.” She cocks her head to the side as she shrugs. Her gold eyes eye her suspiciously. “You look like you’ve seen better days.”

Nausea returns at full force, as she does her best to keep the contents of her stomach from erupting. “It’s damn nerves. I had this since I was a kid.”

“Can’t say I blame you for being nervous.” Pearl sighs. “To be honest I’m nervous too. I hope Marina is safe, that she got to her family in time.”

"She is. Agent 1 has her in a safe house with her family." 

"Thank god!" Pearl breathes a sigh of relief. "I'm so happy she's safe." 

“Me too." Cordelia does have one pressing question... "So, about Marina's kid...?" 

“Oh, yeah! Well, he was born through sheer accident—and if you saw the little one, you’d notice he isn’t exactly human looking—Inkopolis might not accept him as he is…” She frowns. “He is the nicest little guy— _if_ we make it out of here, I’m going to make sure that little man’s going to get the biggest hug from me. I promise I’ll make sure he has a great life—the best life I can give him. I’ll be the best step-momma this world has ever seen!”

Cordelia grins, it was nice to see her so enthusiastic. It cheers her up a bit.

“The General wants me to live with him, even if my father agrees to his demands.” She sighs. “He says it’ll be my choice, but I don’t understand why he’s so eager… It’s not like I’ve been the most accommodating.”

“He’s your brother, is he not? He might be a douchebag, but I can understand the need to be around family. I can tell you I miss mine a lot right now.”

“How long have you been here exactly?”

“Too long.” She admits. “Although all I can say is that the days blend together since it doesn’t get light or dark here. It’s miserable.”

That, Cordelia can agree with. She couldn’t wait to get out.

 


	43. Chapter 43

<Bring her home, lad.>

Aleck pulls Radjerd into a strong hug, he’s the last to leave the foyer. The Octoling would be joined by Noralyn, Freydis, Agent 3, and Melbourne (which was not expected—the man came around, deciding that if his wife deemed this to be a mission worth risking the life of his child over, he better be on board.) Otis, Agent 1, and Marina headed back to the Special Forces Operations centre, following the plan they had formed. He had heard the taller Octoling man mutter something about how ridiculous it was for his wife to go along on such a risky mission, but Melbourne reassured him that he’d look out for Noralyn. Now, all he had was Radjerd’s confident stare.

<I won’t come back until I save her.>

<I’d rather you didn’t.> The older Inkling chuckles, <But please be safe. The last thing I need is for you to end up dead.>

<You’ll bet your ass I won’t.>

<Do be careful.> He pulls the man—or rather—his son in law into a shaky embrace. If he lets go, there’s a chance Radjerd won’t make it. If he doesn’t… no, Aleck can’t afford to think of such an outcome. He had to be positive.

<I’ll be fine. Trust me, I’m an Elite. I know how to fight.>

<Yes…yes you do.> He breathes a sigh of relief at the reminder as he lets go of the Octoling. <Goodbye, and good luck.>

Radjerd nods, a hollow feeling fills his stomach. This was fear—fear that their efforts wouldn’t be enough. Fear that Fitz could die. Fear that life would never be the same again.

Now, it was time to address his wife. Merise wasn’t the type for goodbyes, and this time, she couldn’t bear the weight of anyone losing their lives on her accord. She must have confined herself to her chambers—Aleck would start there. He walks up the stairs, the silence of the manor eerie to him. Everyone was at work, but the environment seemed… quieter. He supposes it wasn’t just him that was lingering in his thoughts.

As he reaches the top of the stairs, he sees the light from his study—the sun had hit the corner of the manor, and the sunlight could only be seen if his door was open—had Merise decided to meet him? He enters the room, seeing his wife cross-legged in the nearest chair. He joins her, sitting in his plush office chair across from her. His poor head pounded from the stress. An estranged son and a missing daughter didn’t do well for one’s conscience.

“Aleck, I don’t know what else to do. I understand Cordelia has proved herself as an Agent, that nice girl Callie told me…but that doesn’t ease my mind. All I think is that your lunatic of a bastard threw her up in some stinky dungeon because he’s jealous.”

Aleck frowns, disapproving of his wife’s tone. “Fitz would never do that to his family.”

“Family? He  _threatened_ our daughter’s safety,  _forcing_  you into the trade with the Octarians. Don’t tell me otherwise—I’m not foolish.”

“Merise, please. I understand that you’re upset.”

“Upset?! Aleck, I’m  _beyond_  upset. I’m tired, worried, stressed that I’ll never see my daughter again until your foolish offspring shoots off his list of demands. You know that Octoling, he’s going to blow it! You saw how he acted during the briefing.”

“I trust the lad to bring our girl home safe. He really loves her, you know.”

“How can you love someone you only just met?”

“Now, they’ve known each other for over a month, at least. Remember, it didn’t take me long to decide that I loved you—I still do.” He stretches his arm to his wife. She stands up, allowing herself to ease onto her husband’s lap. He gently rubs her back as she leans her perky chin on his shoulder.

“My dear, she’s okay. I know Fitz won’t hurt her.”

“How do you know that? He threatened her before, and who’s to say he’s not doing  _unspeakable_  things to her?!” She pauses, calming herself down—changing the subject in the process. “I hated you for a long time—because of the lies you told.”

“I know.” He pats her on the back. “I’m sorry I put you through all of this.” He squeezes her gently. “I’m sorry I lied to you, and Cordelia. I didn’t know what else to do.”

She eases off of him, looking disappointed in herself. Aleck knew that wasn’t a good sign. It made sense his wife would have had enough of his behaviours. He didn’t expect her to understand what he was doing for the Octarian people. There was no way that she would have understood—if Cordelia grew up in the conditions that Fitz did, she would have changed her tune.

This woman had spent all her efforts, appealing to Congress her points—how Cordelia’s rescue would help postpone Octarian attackers. It was noble of Merise to stand up to them—or, maybe she had bribed them—he didn’t check his accounts. It wasn’t clear, but it was irrelevant now.

He needed to be better—for her.

“I’m not going to stop fighting for him,” Aleck whispers under his breath. “Fitz became this way because of me.”

Merise stays silent. He didn’t expect a response. Fitz had messed up by kidnapping Cordelia—and Aleck wouldn’t let that slide. He knew it wasn’t’ right, and he’d make up for it.

He would never allow any harm to come to his daughter. If Fitz had hurt her—he’d be  _furious._

“Aleck, I know he’s your son. I’d be foolish to think you’d abandon him. But Cordelia is  _my_  daughter. I will do whatever it takes to ensure her safety—first and foremost. Maybe you’re right—he wouldn’t hurt her. But I’m hurting—I haven’t had a moment’s rest since her wedding day. Now that I’m home—my head is filled with thoughts of  _what ifs_. I’m especially worried because she didn’t seem herself—when I last spoke with her. Cordelia wasn’t well.”

“She would have been nervous, it’s understandable. She didn’t marry for traditional reasons, but I know she will love him with time. Heaven knows the lad thinks the world of her.”

Merise shakes her head. “Maybe it’s just speculation—forget I said anything.” Merise looks at Aleck. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

The awful pit in his stomach returns. “Merise, you’ve been a great comfort through all of this. I just want you to know that. I love you more than words can describe.”  

“Aleck.” She lowers her head. “There’s a lot I have to think about…” She turns away from him when she announces, “Once we resolve this matter, I want to take a break …from our marriage.” Her disposition barely crumbles, but her voice is shaky. She grabs the door handle it rattles in her grasp.

Aleck watches his wife leave the study, hollowness encapsulates him. He leans his head on his desk, stray tears escape from his eyes.

 

Aleck’s shoulder wakes him from his silken sheets, his pillows scattered around him. He pats the bed; his heart sinks when he realizes Merise wasn’t there. Right… She wants to separate.  

A pained sigh escapes his lips. He had no one to blame but himself.

He leans out of bed, his body aching from the stresses of life. He flips his legs over the slide, slipping into plush red slippers. Easing himself up, Aleck follows the streak of moonlight to his window. Parting the curtain out of the way, he steps onto the balcony. Aleck’s eyes look up to the clear night sky. How could it be that the stars above twinkled so delicately, so freely, when his own mind was erupting with pain and worry. Such was nature, wasn’t it? He shakes his head, letting his wrists drop to his side. Aleck wasn’t a man who believed in signs, but he had to change his ways. It hit him at that moment—Merise might want to separate now, but he would win her back. He would change—even if that meant... Aleck stops his train of thought. Could he really sever his ties with the Octarian Army, despite what that burden had done to his family? He wasn’t confident, but he couldn’t lose his wife. That was too much. He wouldn’t allow Cordelia or Radjerd to join a broken home.

Aleck’s heart stops—across the balcony, he sees her, dressed in the finest silk—her green robe radiating against the moonlight. It’s luminous, gorgeous. It’s his wife—the woman he should have cherished from the start.

His eyes moist over, his throat becomes parched.

How could he have been so blind—of course, she wouldn’t want to stay with a man like him. He had done nothing but lie behind her back. He was a traitor to her and his entire family.

He smiles when her emerald eyes catch his glimpse, offering a small wave.

She looks back, long and hard. A frown curves her lips, her head turning from his sight.

A pang hits his heart, his shoulders slump by his side. One tear escapes from the corner of his eye, warmly caressing his cheek as it falls. 

But he doesn’t stop looking. She’s too beautiful, smart, incredible to ignore—despite the ripping pain he felt in his heart. He loves this woman, and he will do anything to win her favour once more.

Aleck sighs, turning his head from the driveway as she leaves for the guest house. It made sense—Merise was never one to do nothing about a problem. It’s what he admired her for—how couldn’t he find her so magnificent? She was a breathtaking woman in every sense of the word. He had to do something grand—something she wouldn’t expect.

Something he would never picture himself doing…

A rustle in the leaves catches the man’s eye—the shrubbery below was moving too unnaturally for it to be an animal. He hears a voice—it stuns him immediately. There’s no way… His suspicion is confirmed when a buttermilk haired Inkling man brushes the leaves off of his light jacket. The green of his eyes shines against the moonlight as he peers at the balcony.

No—that couldn’t be! How long had he been hiding in that bush?! 

Aleck hurries downstairs, his legs carrying him faster than they have before. He almost slips out of his slippers, but no matter. Fitz had so much to answer for—there was no way he could let this moment pass between them. Aleck throws open the door, his son meeting him at eye level.

<Fitz!>

His green eyes narrow. <Aleck…>

An array of emotions flash across his face. It’s clear that his son isn’t sure how to proceed.

<Where is Cordelia?!>

<You honestly believed I’d bring her here? And have you deny my claims?>

<Fitz, this isn’t a game.  _Where is my daughter? >_ He growls.

<Ah, your  _precious_ daughter…> He seethes. <I wouldn’t hurt her, she’s my sister…and from the sounds of it, she didn’t have much luck with you either.>

The man's steel blue eyes narrow. <That is entirely untrue, and you know it.> His fists curl. <You should have left Cordelia out of this… if anything happened to her, I swear…> He can’t finish his sentence. He looks at his son, the stress and pain prematurely ageing his face.

<Don’t threaten me, old man.> Fitz points a finger at him. <I wouldn’t have had to resort to these means if you’d simply answer my wires.>

<I wasn’t given a choice.> He stresses. <Now tell me, is Cordelia safe?>

<Yes, of course she’s safe. You can ensure that her health is my top priority.>

The tension in Aleck’s brows lessens as he closes his eyes.

<You don’t believe me.> His voice is flat.

<How do I know you’re telling the truth?>

<I have copies of her health records, which I brought along with me by accident, but  _apparently_  my word isn’t good enough.> Within Fitz’s bag, he pulls out a legal-sized beige envelope. <I had a doctor examine her from head to toe, so there’s nothing to worry about—hey!>

Aleck snatches the envelope from his hand, opening the envelope. He pulls the documents out, allowing the sleeve to fall to the ground. The moon was bright, but not well enough to see against the darker pink slip.

<I can hardly see it.>

<There’s nothing concerning on there, just a full bill of perfect health. As I told you.> He flinches when Aleck grabs his hand, pulling the Inkling man inside. <What the hell are you doing?!>

<We’re going to my study—now.>

 

Aleck turns on the light, both men hiss at the sudden light change. Now that he can see Fitz properly, he’s dressed in an average cream coloured jacket with grey dress pants. He sits down, locking the door behind him. Fitz carefully eyes him when he grabs his phone from his pocket.

<You better not be calling those Agents.>

<No, I’m calling  _my_  security. You’re not leaving this house.> Aleck tells him in a demanding tone. <What you’re going to do is sit tight, and pray that you didn’t forge these notes.>

Fitz narrows his eyes as Aleck proceeds with his call, informing them to watch out for an Inkling man that fit his description. He puts the phone on his desk, folding his hands together. <Behave, or we call the Agents.> His voice is absolute.

Fitz growls deeply. <You think that’s going to get Cordelia home sooner? Think again.>

<Don’t test me.> Aleck narrows his eyes as he gathers the papers on his desk. <And don’t even think about moving—We have a lot to discuss.>

<I don’t have to take this. I have a radio—>

Aleck cuts him off, <It’s not going to work here. The Agents had shut down my communication the minute I was under house arrest. All wires had been transferred to the Special Forces Unit.>

<What?!> Fitz stands up in alarm. <You mean to tell me that my squad can’t contact me under any circumstances?>

<Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.>

The panic in Fitz’s eyes dissipates, his focus soon returning. <No, that’s not what I’m here for—I want to discuss negotiations, so I may give Cordelia the choice of coming back here. I told her she’s more than free to live with me.> Such control was expected for a General.  

<Why would you offer that courtesy to her? You’ve threatened her safety numerous times.> Aleck’s eyes linger on the doctor’s scrawl—his Octarian wasn’t the best, and her handwriting was atrocious. He can barely translate this letter.

<I don’t trust Radjerd—he’s too reckless for her. He doesn’t know responsibility—even when he was in the Elite Forces, he neglected his own duties for his own personal agenda. How on earth can you let your own daughter marry such a foolish man?>

Aleck didn’t hear his son’s words, instead focusing on the paragraph with the mixed letters and symbols. <Fitz, translate this part for me.> Aleck’s heart races as he eyes his son. He wasn’t going to entertain the thought—any thought until he got confirmation.

The Inkling purses his lips. <After the reception you gave me, I’m not inclined to want to cooperate.>

<Oh, you will—or I  _will_ call those Agents so fast you will have no choice but to surrender for your crimes.>

Fitz rolls his eyes. <If you  _insist_. > He waves his hand for Aleck to give him the papers. <Which word are you having trouble with?>

He points to the long, hard to read text.

<Ultrasound.> Fitz shrugs his shoulders. <It’s fine, she’s getting a checkup next week—do you think I’m having her in an infested cell somewhere? Come on, Aleck—I’m not that cruel.>

Aleck covers his mouth as he grabs his phone. He can’t think straight—he needs to call Merise. He fumbles with his phone, almost dropping it on the desk as he lifts it to his ear. His wife’s exhausted voice speaks through the earpiece.

“My word, Aleck. What in heaven’s name are you calling me this late?”

“Come to my study—it’s important.” He hangs up, his hand shakes from both excitement and anger. He slams his cell phone on his desk—he can’t place two coherent thoughts together.

<You are going to show me  _exactly_  where you are holding her.> Aleck points with a weary hand. <Or my wife will have your head.>

<Whatever for? She’ll be happy to know that I kept Cordelia quite comfortable—and as I said, we have a deal. I’m not letting anyone go until I have your word that you’re giving back the resources you promised me.>

<…Does she know?>

<No, and she won’t until you release me. The longer I’m trapped in here, the longer she might think it right to escape. I can assure you one thing Aleck—if she escapes without my knowing, my platoon might not take too kindly to her. I’ve given her special treatment—and I know some members resent that. They might hurt her just to make a point.>

Aleck hears a knock on the door, getting up immediately. He can’t hear any more of this.

<Don’t move.> His arm is shaky as he gets up, grabbing the door handle. Merise walks in, her hands clenched to her robe. She freezes when she sees Fitz staring back at her—her emerald eyes flaring with anger. Her hand whaps across Fitz’s cheek, as she grabs his collar.

“Where the hell is my daughter!” She shrieks. Aleck places his hands on Merise’s shoulders, easing her off. She grabs her husband’s shoulder’s instead, her eyes wide with discomfort. “We have to call the Agents—he needs to pay for his crimes!”

Fitz winces from the assault, but he doesn’t retaliate. Aleck can appreciate his restraint.

“No, we can’t call them. They’ll incarcerate him.”

“As they should! He kidnapped Cordelia!”

Aleck breathes, looking at his wife. “Merise, sit. There’s something you must know.”

“Now is hardly the time—that  _man_ is sitting right across from me and you expect me to act like it’s nothing?”

Aleck grabs the papers, his palms feel clammy. He clears his throat as he hands the papers to his wife.

“Fitz ensured me that Cordelia’s healthy—He brought a bill of health as confirmation.”

“It could be any garbly-gook, you know I can’t read Octarian.” She fumbles, hitting the papers with the back of her hand.

“It’s not that I’m most worried about.” Aleck remains calm. “It’s why I called, you have to know. The doctor's note he gave me—it says that Cordelia is barely a month along...” He still couldn’t believe it, saying it from his lips was both exciting and terrifying.

Merise curls her lip as her eyebrows raise. “Aleck, you’re not suggesting that our daughter is pregnant,  _are you?”_ When he doesn’t speak, Merise lets out a frustrated moan. “God, that’s what I was afraid of! When her nose curled up at the wine—her  _favourite_  wine—I was suspicious—and that  _lunatic_ still has her at his whims.” Her hands tremble. “If that note is true, we need to get her out of there—now!”

This was it. This was the point where he had to choose—his son, or his wife and daughter…and future grandchild.

“Merise… We’ll talk about what to do in the morning.” Aleck says wearily. His heart drops, knowing that he sealed Fitz’s fate.

Merise’s eyes widen in surprise. “Are you  _sure?”_

“Yes. We can’t leave anything up to chance.” Aleck feels anger, confliction, that he betrayed Fitz. But he had to, for Merise.

For Cordelia.


	44. Chapter 44

<Otis? It’s me, Aleck.>

His palms sweat—he can barely hold his phone. Aleck couldn’t sleep a wink that night—knowing the kind of decision he had to make. He had given in, traded one child’s future for another. What kind of a father was he?

<Aleck, this is a secure line. Not to be rude, but is it important? We’re busy monitoring—>

<It’s Fitz, my son. I have him locked in my study.> He had no choice but to lock his son in that space—god knows how long they had. Would he try to break through the window? Even if he did, there was security on site.  No, the help had reported noise circulating in the study—he’s still there. Aleck was scared to investigate the room—if he could even call it a room anymore. No doubt Fitz was going to destroy everything he could.

<The General _left_ his station? That makes sense as to why we’re getting so much signal interference at the Testing Facility. > Otis’ voice tells that he’s known about this for a while.

<Noise interference?>

<We’ve confirmed they’re all in the DeepSea Metro, safe for the time being. Marina can’t hack the security system—there’s too much interference. We weren’t going to report it until we had a lead as to why. We’re worried that there is some kind of civil dispute going on in the area.>

<What!? That can’t be—what about Cordelia?!>

<Please calm down. We’re doing the best that we can with what we have. If their systems are out of whack, it might be easier to break in than we anticipated. But, that doesn’t explain why there’d be a dispute.>

<Fitz told me that if we kept him in captivity, the people under his instruction would riot. But he hasn’t been away that long.>

Otis deliberates, <Maybe he can give us some clues as to what’s going on?>

<The minute he realizes that I’m asking for the Special Forces Unit, he’ll refuse to talk.> Aleck makes his point clear.

< _If_ he agrees to help us, we can lessen his punishment.>

Aleck clears his throat. He’s not sure that’s going to work. But, if he could phrase it in a way that could help him realize that Cordelia is the one in need of assistance, this might play to his favour. However, there’s a chance it might not. Aleck has to proceed carefully. It hits him! There might be some way he can help his son, and, get the information he needs.

<If I asked Fitz, I need you to help me convince Congress to pass a rule to lend our aid to the Octarians.>

<We’re Agents, not politicians. I’ve said this before.>

<Then I can’t promise you anything.> Aleck’s word is final.

<I don’t mean to step out of bounds, but your daughter is trapped in that facility. I understand that the General is your son, but Cordelia’s safety is in jeopardy.>

<And don’t interpret what I say as inappropriate. Fitz will cooperate with us if we agree to help him, and his people. It’s the only reason he’s a General in the first place—he wants to lead his people to freedom. You of all people should understand that plight.>

Silence befalls the man, as he reflects on Aleck’s words. <I’ll talk to the Agents, but that’s the best I can do. I can’t promise anything. But, please try your best. I’ll be honest—I’m nervous as hell about my wife being down there—but she insisted she had to do this. If it weren’t for her turf background, I—no, now isn’t the time. Do your best, and have The General get back to me as soon as he can. If he signs himself over, he might as well know I was undercover.>

<I’ll do my best.> Aleck hangs up, slipping his phone into his pocket. A worried Merise stares back at him. She’s chewing on her fingernails—something he hadn’t seen her do since their daughter was born.

“What did you tell him?”

“Merise, I’m turning Fitz in.”

Her eyes widen in shock. “Aleck…”

“I have to.” He doesn’t let on that the Facility is in turmoil. Merise was barely able to hold it together. In all truthfulness, neither was he. His firstborn, locked in his study—from the ruckus he heard— _was_ his study. His secondborn, trapped in a war zone with no means of escape. He couldn’t allow himself to fear for her life—he had to remain clear headed. “Cordelia needs us—now more than ever. We can’t fail her—not like we did in the past.”

Tears lace his wife’s eyes, she dabs her eyelids with her handkerchief to quell the moisture. “I thought I was doing the right thing by pushing her away from this family, but I learned now that I was just as bad as you. …or, was.” She shakes her head. “I’ve been a terrible mother to her; I wish I could take it all back. I’d gladly take her position if it meant she’d return home safe.”

“And we will.” He sits next to his wife, wrapping both arms around her. He knows this may end poorly. To his surprise, she returns his gentle hug.

“Maybe, there’s hope for you after all.” She whispers below her breath.

Aleck sighs, lifting his head up. “Merise, I have to tell you something.” She stiffens, raising her head to give him her full attention. “What Otis said to me—there’s a signal interference near Cordelia’s location. He believes it’s something more sinister—that the facility might be having an uprising of some kind. Fitz might be the only one who can help us.”

Merise covers her mouth as he speaks, but lowers her hands when he finishes. “I hate that man, but if he can save our daughter, I’ll agree to whatever will make him talk.”

“I think I know a way, but it will rely on your way with words. You convinced Congress to let us go undercover to save our daughter. How about saving all of _Octarian_ kind?”

***

“Goddammit!” Pearl cusses under her breath. “They’re fucking cowards, all of them.” Her small hands are pressed up against the plexiglass. It would have been better if their cell was barred—the muskiness of the less than presentable cell would have been easier to deal with. At least to the General’s credit, he kept Cordelia comfortable, fed, and clean. Here, it was one wooden bed, a toilet tucked behind a single wall (which Cordelia wasn’t sure was cleaned in ages—it had a rancid smell to it). Cordelia’s shoulders shivered against the cold tile wall, but it was so dark, she couldn’t tell if the dampness of the wall was condensation, or something else. She didn’t care, she was too tired to function.  

Pearl was feeling the same effects, although she was livelier than the buttermilk haired Inkling—knocking her forehead against the plexiglass wall. “We were _this_ close to escaping, I could _smell_ the freedom. God knows how long we’re going to be locked in here for—Cordelia?”

“Hmm?” Overtiredness was setting in for Cordelia, her eyes droopy from the day’s events. She didn’t know the time, but her exhaustion hints that it’s way past her bedtime—perhaps even longer. All concept of time has failed her—she closes her eyes. Pearl’s voice becomes murmurs before her eyes close.

 

Cordelia jolts awake, a pang of hunger rips through her gut. Wait, how long had she been asleep? She sees Pearl lying on the wooden bed, her head barely on the wooden platform. Cordelia’s bare shoulders feel the coolness of her room—had her teeth been chattering? Her mouth feels tender and sore—giving her the indication that they’ve been chattering while she had been passed out. Not just her mouth, but her gums too.

Cordelia pushes with her arm, getting herself off of the ground. She winces when it’s stretched. She had only felt this way when a … _needle_ was administered to her as a child. Oh _no!_

Cordelia cocks her neck, looking to see if there was a telltale prick—there was. Panic replaces the hunger she feels, god knows what was put into her bloodstream—she curses loudly. Her knees feel weak as she lifts herself up slowly, feeling the cool air against her arms as she carefully walks over to Pearl. She shakes the frosted tip Inkling awake as best she can—she didn’t want to alarm any guards that might be on this floor.

“Pearl, wake up.” She leans closer to the Inkling’s ear. “Pearl!”

“ _Wh_ _at is your problem, I was…_ Cordelia?” It takes Pearl a moment to remember where she is. “I’d complain that you woke me up from the best dream of my life, but I’m relieved to see you’re standing.”

“Relieved?” She’s too afraid to hear the answer.  

“I heard talk about how they’re sending me to the sanitation ward, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut anymore. I blurted my frustrations in Octarian, and they discovered that I could speak their language. Two Octolings came in, and they pinned both of us down, administering some kind of needle. I assumed it was to keep us quiet, you fell almost immediately. I thought they might have killed you by how fast you fell. They did the same to me too, but I managed to bite her arm.” She looks proud as she shows off her pearly whites, but her face is soon laced with confusion. "You really don't remember?"

"No, I don't." Cordelia's ashamed to admit. 

"I see... I also heard they want to send you to the testing ward—that means they want to do specialized experiments on you.”

“Specialized? Whatever for?!” Cordelia did not remember anything after passing out the first time. She couldn't believe that she was pinned down—there was no way that she'd forget an important detail like that. But, there was no reason for Pearl to lie to her. It had to be true. Cordelia shivers—this was a nightmare. 

“I don’t know, but I think they’re pissed that your General brother has been giving you special treatment. He’s apparently been neglecting his duties and fawning over you the entire time.”

Had he? Cordelia’s cheeks are stained with colour. “He wasn’t _fawning_ , he was trying to lure me into a false sense of security.”

“Maybe not. It’s possible that he might have liked the idea of a sister.”

“Pearl, come on. I’m some means to an end.”

“He said he wanted you to move in with him—I remember you telling me that.”

Right, she did tell Pearl that detail. Whatever for, she can’t recall.  

“Regardless, he’s pissed off his underlings. I won’t be surprised if they want to make an example out of you out of spite.”

Cordelia freezes. That wouldn’t be the case, the Elites had said that they were going to notify the General of her escape. If he was giving her so-called special treatment, it wouldn’t last after he found out she escaped. She remembers the first time they spoke, he almost hit her. God, either way, she was screwed. Would she have been better off living with the General? No, of course not! He would have kept her as some kind of pet, or, a means to let out his frustration. Or, some kind of warped mother figure for Denton. This was the best out of the two scenarios—she couldn’t imagine living with that man.

“I suppose whatever they injected into us isn’t for our benefit—do you have any idea what it was?” Cordelia changes the subject. She can’t bear to think of her _brother_ any longer.

“No, but the solution looked like a swirly blue colour—bright, too.”

Cordelia wasn’t familiar with a liquid like that, but it couldn’t have been good. “Besides feeling like I haven’t eaten in days, I feel fine.”

“Yeah, me too.” Pearl rubs her belly. “What I wouldn’t give for some warm breakfast right now…”

Cordelia couldn’t argue with that sentiment— Her mouth salivates at the thought. She would kill for a plate of juicy bacon strips.

“Okay, so maybe it’s not that bad—they might have wanted to knock us out for the time being—although if that’s the case, why didn’t they escort us out of the cell to wherever they wanted to take us—even better—why did they want to knock us out in the first place? It’s not like we were putting up much of a fight.” Pearl attempts to bring reason to their current situation.

Cordelia doesn’t know either. It unsettles her that neither can come up with a motive—or—what the Elite’s plans for them were.

An unrelated thought makes its way into Cordelia's mind—The Octoling had mentioned the Testing Facility before—but did he mention that there was a way to destroy it? Cordelia can’t remember—it might be impossible, but if the two could get out of here and manage to take down the facility—well, now that was wishful thinking. What could they possibly do in their condition? Especially if they were injected with some mystery drug? They had to proceed with caution.

<Hey!> A sharp thud is heard against the glass—both Cordelia and Pearl jump at the sound. <Keep it down with that nonsensical chatter, or we'll pump you with more drugs—don't pretend you don't know what I'm saying, shrimp!>

Cordelia’s heart pounds as she grips the skirts of her dress. 

<I'd like to see you try!>

"Pearl, don't piss her off!"

"It's fine—she's just a guard anyway. Don’t be scared.” Cordelia feels Pearl’s cool hand on her shoulder. She whispers, “You and I will find a way to escape, I know we will.”

“I wasn’t scared.” Cordelia whispers back, “But thanks. It’s nice that I’m not here alone.”

“You were shivering.”

Was she? Cordelia hadn’t noticed, but now her teeth were chattering like crazy.

“I hate to ask, but do you mind if I tear a part of your dress? You can use it to wrap around your shoulders, it might help to keep you warm.”

Cordelia hesitates momentarily, but she knows that Pearl is right. When she gets home, she can get a new dress commissioned—right now, she had to focus on survival. “Yes, you can.” She visibly flinches as she hears a rip, followed by another. If Cordelia had the brainpower, she’d consider how impressive it was for the frosted tip Inkling to have the strength to rip apart the material. She needed to give Pearl more credit.

“It better not be that damn shit they injected into us that’s lowering our temperature.” Pearls hisses, taking the fabric and wrapping it around the buttermilk haired Inkling’s shoulders. She rubs them to keep her warm.  “Stay with me, okay Cordelia. No matter how tempting it is to sleep—that’s what they want us to do I bet.”

“You’re right—and thanks, Pearl. I appreciate what you’re doing.”

“It’s cool.” Pearl continues rubbing Cordelia’s shoulders—the friction from her massage helped the Inkling warm up a little. She was lucky that she had found Pearl—she was a truly compassionate soul. “Actually—if you don’t mind, I have a …personal question.”

Cordelia didn’t care, she could use the distraction. “What is it?”

“About that letter—the one that Octoling dude wrote you—there’s something in it that I’m curious about.”

Oh god, she wasn’t expecting _that_ kind of a question. How on earth did she forget about that godforsaken letter! “And what’s that?” She asks with hesitation.

“Well, it said that your—um—you know what, in my head, it sounded a lot less inappropriate to say—but it implies that the two of you got down to fuck—in colourful detail.”

Cordelia stiffens, her face burning with embarrassment. This was _not_ something she wanted to discuss with Pearl. “You're asking if that's true?"

"Oh, honey—it's true alright—there's no way someone can write the things he did  _without_ experiencing it for himself. He sounds like a lucky man if you ask me." Cordelia cringes, hearing the smile in Pearl's voice. If this was her way to try to lighten the mood,  _it wasn't working._ “It’s what those Elites said earlier before they locked us in here ...what they said  _implies—"_

Pearl’s pauses, stopping her massage, but the warmness of her touch remains. “Implies?" 

“You know what, I think my paranoia is getting the best of me. It’s probably nothing.” Pearl laughs, a little too loudly—she’s hiding something.

<I said cut it out in there!> The hammering returns, Cordelia jumping at the sound yet again.

“Bitch.” The frosted tip Inkling narrows her gold eyes. "I'd say it in her language, but you're right. It's probably for the best that we don't piss off any more Elites." 

Cordelia didn't want to change the subject, but her vicious hunger pangs force her to. All her mind can think about is food. “Do you think they’re going to feed us? I’m starving.”

“From what I can remember, they fed me here and there, but…” Pearl stops talking momentarily, her eyes widening with a conclusion. She snaps her fingers. “Cordelia, I know what they injected us with. Just expect to feel out of sorts—it’s a drug that’s going to inhibit our movements for a while. I’m guessing it’s a reoccurring dose, they injected me with this stuff before. It’s so we don’t fight back when they decide to move us. Fuck…”

Great—that’s exactly what she needed. How the hell was she supposed to escape with this awful drug cycling through her system?

Cordelia stops, hearing yet another voice—she winces when she recognizes it as the General’s assistant, Branton. Of course, the Elites would let him out of his imprisonment. He was going to kick her ass for what she did to him—it was only a matter of time!

She pulls the ripped fabric closer to her body, gripping it as a way to comfort herself.  

“What’s wrong?” Pearl’s gold eyes widen as Cordelia hears the sound of the plexiglass door open. Pearl does her best to stand up, but she stumbles. To Cordelia’s horror, the frosted tip Inkling falls to the floor, she doesn’t show any signs of movement. Oh no, the side effects were taking hold!

<General Chalmers is going to have a fit when he sees you like this.> Cordelia can feel the man’s warm arms around her as he lifts her off of the ground. She’s too weak to reach out for Pearl, the damn drug was now taking hold of her as well. 

<No, you don’t understand, we can’t leave Pearl!>

<Nothing’s going to happen to her, I’ve been put in charge. If you want your friend to stay safe, she will.> Cordelia couldn’t believe that promise, not after how she’s treated him.

She attempts to squirm in Branton’s grasp, but it doesn’t do her any good. She’s too weak.

<Where are you taking me!?>

The guard looks confused as they walk by, understanding that Cordelia could speak the Octarian language. That’s right—she never spoke a word of it. She must have assumed that Pearl was the only one to speak Octarian.

Branton holds her tighter, as they reach the elevator. <We’re going to call the doctor back immediately. I told General Chalmers that he shouldn’t have left—almost a full day has passed and chaos is already brewing. I’ll put you in your old room, then we can have the doctor look at you while I do my best to calm the Elites down.> Branton wanted to help her, even after what she'd done. Cordelia didn't feel more guilty than she had at this moment. Once he brought her to safety, she'd apologize to him. It was the least Cordelia could do. For now, she had to figure out what the elites had injected her with—while she still had all her faculties. 

<They put some blue liquid inside my arm. Do you know what that is?> Cordelia coherently manages to say.  

<They _what._ > Branton pales. <Scratch that, we’re taking you to his house. I can’t afford to leave you here much longer.>

<N-no, what about Pearl?> Cordelia’s head begins to fog. Shit!

She feels Branton’s grip tighten when the elevator door opens. Three Elites stood at him with their octo shots pointed at them.

<Where are you going with that one?> Cordelia hears one say. Her voice doesn’t sound familiar.

<She was thrown in the cells by mistake. General Chalmers—> Branton attempts to reason with them, but he’s cut off.

<Postponed the war. The war that _we_ deserve, thanks to this little cunt. Playing house, while we wait in a crumbling society. We don’t have the _time_ to wait. We’re taking action ourselves—which means, we decide what happens to her. That man’s going to pay for betraying our people! >

<You are not under the authorization to do so. If you don’t put down your weapons, I will have to report this.>

<Oh, we tried to contact him, but he shut his damn radio off. Bastard is screwing us on purpose. He’s _one of them_ after all. >

Cordelia couldn’t believe it. He was their General—how could they disobey him?!  

She can hear Branton’s murmurs about her current state, but not much else. Her ears begin to ring as she feels her limbs drop, the sensation of numbness hitting her body as she falls onto the cold tile. She didn’t expect for the effects to happen so fast. She can barely hear Branton’s screams or the rounds of Elites’ weapons. Her heart hammers when she makes out that Branton is limp beside her, his eyes open as his mouth is slightly ajar. Oh god, was he _dead?!_ She could only blink as she feels herself being hoisted over the shoulder of an Octoling with cold armour—it tingles against her arms.

<Take her to the chamber. We should be able to use this one. As for the annoying shrimp in the cell—you know what to do.>

Cordelia tries to scream, but nothing comes out. They couldn’t kill Pearl. _God, please, anything but that!_ All she could do was blink, her body was completely paralyzed. Not only was Pearl going to die, but so was she.

All Cordelia could hope for was a swift death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY, have I been waiting a while to make this public! 
> 
> As you are aware, we've now got 5 chapters left of MLTK--are you crying, because I'M CRYING! Not all is lost, however. 
> 
> Starting **December 23rd** , I will be releasing a new Cordelia and Radjerd adventure named [The Undercover Heiress](http://bit.ly/2AYYs2X), featuring all the characters in MLTK that you've grown to know and love! Want to know more? Check it out on [tumblr](http://bit.ly/2AYYs2X) and read the FAQ! Don't have tumblr, no fear! You can learn more about The Undercover Heiress on the Discord! 
> 
> Also, A LIVE Q&A with LadyHood (Author of Her Fractured Spirit) and myself will be held **Thursday, November 15th at 7PM AST**. Have a question you want to ask Lady or I LIVE? Ask it in the [My Lie to Keep Discord's ask lady and rose channel!](http://bit.ly/2MkFQxw)
> 
> Have a wonderful week, and see you on the Q&A! 
> 
> Rose <3


	45. Chapter 45

Aleck takes the key, unlocking his study from the outside. Paranoia sets in as his hands rest on the brass handle, turning it carefully. He didn’t know what to expect—what tortures would lie beyond these walls. Aleck half expects his stuff to be singed. It turns out however, that the man responsible for his fears sits in his office chair, his hands folded across his desk. From the noise reported, he expected much worse—but to Aleck’s surprise, he finds his office untouched—everything appeared perfectly in place. Fitz goes from folded hands to crossed arms, his brow raised from the implied suspicion Aleck had for his safety.

<I’ve been trained to stay calm in less-than-ideal circumstances.> He hums, leaning back in Aleck’s chair. He brings his arm out, inviting both Aleck and Merise to sit down.

“I don’t trust him,” Merise mutters under her breath. “If he hasn’t rigged your office with some kind of trap, I’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Aleck pats the top of his wife’s hand—she moves it away. It would have been silly for him to expect that she would forgive him so easily. “It might be best if I talk to Fitz alone. I will talk to him about what we’ve discussed, hopefully, that will sway him. Head downstairs, I’ll let you know when we’ve reached a conclusion.”

Merise nods, leaving Aleck to his negotiations. After all, even if she wanted to stay—speaking in Octarian wouldn’t help Merise understand the situation. 

<Now it bothers me that you talk in Inklish so much. Do you forget that I can understand it?> The way his lip quivers tells Aleck that while that might be true, there’s some falseness to his claim. He did pride himself in forsaking his Inkling blood—the removal of his mask proof of his shame. Light scar tissue still remained upon the bridge of his nose, which was much easier to see in the daylight.

<I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you. My wife doesn’t know Octarian.>

The calm nature of his son is suspicious. He’s unsure how Fitz will act.  

<You know Aleck, I was surprised to find myself actually at home in this study of yours.> His green eyes dart around as if he’s examining the space. His enthusiastic tone doesn’t help him focus. <Then, a silly daydream came to mind. What if I was the heir to this _beautiful_ estate? Do you ever think about what life would have been like if you weren’t such a coward and abandoned me at the impressionable age of ten? >

Aleck winces, he knew that blow was intentional.

<I didn’t realize that you kept my childhood belongings.> He looks at the direction of the safe. His son’s voice grows unusually quiet. <You know, those were some of the best memories of my life.>

<Mine too. Aleck.> A hint of softness is heard in his son’s voice.

<I’ve come to discover that Cordelia is quite a nice sister—a bit feisty, which is unexpected of a Firthe I must say—I’ve grown to expect that the FIrthes are weak blooded, but Cordelia impresses me. She single-handedly took down one of our strongest forces—it’s a shame that she can’t hold her own without a weapon. Or, maybe she lacks focus—I’m not sure.> Fitz shakes his head, his buttermilk hair brushes against his forehead. <Why is it that your children seem to best you at fighting for what they believe in? Clearly, Cordelia inherited it from your wife, as I had from my mother.>

<Your mother was a marvel.> Aleck recalls fondly.

<Who saw you for the coward you really are.> He growls under his breath. Aleck can’t afford to bite onto the bait Fitz clearly laid out for him.

<That’s not what I came to discuss.> Aleck breathes slowly, attempting to steer the conversation. Fitz doesn’t let him.

<I’m well aware it isn’t, but since you so kindly locked me in your study, I took it upon myself to look through your things.> He raises an unimpressed brow. <I can’t say there’s much here that’s helpful.>  

<I haven’t lied to you, Fitz. I told you what my intentions were. But, I can’t waste any more time. I received a call from the Agents.>

His lips scowl immediately.

<You had to have known that I was going to turn you in—you interfered with Cordelia’s safety.>

<Look, worst case scenario, I had a sense that things might turn south the moment I left. I had my trusted assistant Branton take over Cordelia’s transfer—as we speak, she’s stationed at my home. I could clarify that, if Branton was able to reach me.> He lets out a reluctant sigh.

<Why did you make me believe otherwise?>

<Because it’s called a false sense of urgency—of course, I knew what my people were going to do. I’d never leave Cordelia in the hands of my troops. I knew that my trip here might cost me my freedom—I’m no fool. But, that’s where we differ—I’m not a coward. I will do whatever it takes to bring justice for my people.>

<So you came alone?>

<Of course I came alone. I knew that if I had others spotted on-site, I’d be flagged as suspicious. But I know that you won’t hurt me, Aleck. You’ve done many idiotic things—you might turn me in—but you forget. The minute I’m out of the picture, the Octarians won’t think twice about releasing the drones upon the city—you might have heard some cases where we’ve tested grounds with a handful of them.>

Aleck’s steel blue eyes hold position. He knows Fitz isn’t bluffing.

<You’ve told the Agents that you have me in your sights, haven’t you? Here I thought you’d at least give me more time to deliberate my loyalties.>

<It’s not like that. There was a signal interruption at your base. We—> He stops himself momentarily. He might as well tell Fitz what was happening. He’s a smart man—Aleck will immediately be called out if he tries to bullshit his way through this conversation. <We need your help finding another way in. I’ve sent down a rescue team to bring Cordelia home, and we don’t intend to leave without her.>

<I can’t say I’m surprised, but it will be proven futile. I’ve relocated her to my home—which is nowhere near the facility. Branton’s instructions were to put her safety above all else—I might have questionable people amongst our ranks, but Branton is a figure most respect. He has been nothing but loyal to this cause. Believe nothing else I say, but Cordelia’s safety is important to me. It’s been a long time since I felt a familial connection with someone—if I regret anything, it’s that I took her so hastily.>

Which you could only do if the rest of us were distracted—makes sense why you sent Freydis.>

<I knew once I forbid Radjerd from our lands that I lost her trust. I promised I’d keep her family safe from harm, and I didn’t go back on my word. And, I assumed once she arrived at the manor that her lips would run loose with my plans. I had to do this myself.>

<But Fitz, you’re leaving yourself wide open for retaliation. I don’t understand—>

Fitz cuts him off aggressively. <I told you, _Aleck_ , I’ll do _anything_ for my people. I’m well aware that they never trusted me due to my appearance. I don’t think I could ever wash away my Inkling heritage, as much as I want to. I had to work twice as hard to be seen as half as good—my whole life I had to do what others weren’t willing to do. The only person who saw that was my partner—she lost her life due to an accident that _your government_ could have easily prevented. Her son is all I have left—until I got to know Cordelia. She’s brash and quirky—reminds me of myself when I was her age. She and I were both fucked over by you, and I don’t want her to be lead down a path of lies for as long as I have. She and her child are better off with me. >

<She deserves to be with her family, _above_ the surface.> Aleck raises his voice.

<Then all the more for you to agree to my terms.> Fitz crosses his arms. <Help us win the war, so Cordelia will have a safe place to live.>

<That’s not part of the deal. You told me that she was to stay with you until I supply you with the weapons.> Aleck reminds him.

<You have no intent on doing so—especially since you told me that you’re working with the Agents. Besides, I can’t trust her with that vigilante husband of hers. He’ll only put her in danger.>

<No he won’t. Radjerd loves my daughter—he will ensure that she and their child are safe.>

<Until his next idea settles in. Do you think an Octoling like him will stand a chance above the surface—that their child will? Think about it, I don’t look much like my mother—what if the child takes on an Octarian appearance. It’ll face the hardships that I had to—all because your kind is unforgiving and cruel.> Fitz tenses up, his emotions bubbling to the surface. <It’s going to eat at her, just like it did my mother. She did everything to ensure me that I was enough—just the way I was. Unfortunately, the rest of the world didn’t agree with her.>

<I assure you Fitz, Cordelia and her baby, whatever it ends up being, are safest here with her family.>

Fitz narrows his eyes. <Then why were you so against Denton?>

<I was never against the kid, but to claim him as my grandson when I’ve never met the tyke—I don’t know what else I could have done.>

Fits turns away from him with disgust. <You never asked to meet him. He’s a good boy who needs his family to love him. You are so concerned with blood, which is ironic because I am your firstborn—even after my mother died, you did nothing but send me money.>

<Fitz, there wasn’t much I could have done.>

<Bullshit!> He slams his hands on the desk, standing up. <You could have done _something_ —take over when she no longer could. I was a teenager—I had no one!>

Aleck’s voice breaks, <I’m sorry.>

<No you’re not.> He mutters under his breath. <But that’s all in the past now, isn’t it? No use reopening old wounds.> The Inkling shakes his head dismissively.

Pangs of guilt fill Aleck’s chest, the pain in Fitz’s voice gets to him. This General—the man in front of him—was his fault. He influenced his son’s direction in life. The hardest part would be, despite all of their history, would be keeping on topic. It was going to take an immense amount of concentration.

Aleck clears his throat, <The best way you can free your people, is by listening to what I have to say.>

<Like I have years and years before? And where has that gotten me—a bunch of empty promises and disappointments.>

<It won’t be like that, I give you my word.>

<God damn it, Aleck, your word means _nothing_ anymore. Did you hear _nothing_ I had just said? You flip-flop constantly, you have no sense of loyalty and you’re absolutely foolish. I’ve done nothing but waste my time here—I see that now. I came here hoping for an honest debate, but all it seems that you care about is your damn wife’s approval. I should have never shown you those god damn papers.>

<Fitz, please. It’s not like that—you don’t understand what I’m trying to say.>

<Oh, believe me, I do. I think I’m done here.>

Aleck had to convince Fitz he could help, and fast. <Merise will talk to congress—she persuaded them to let the Special Forces Unit save my daughter. What if she could do the same for the Octarian people?>

<You expect me to believe that shit?! What good would it do for your wife to save my people?>

It was time to reveal what he and Merise had discussed. <It’s what I’m promising you. I don’t know if we’ll get immediate results, but we’ll see if we can provide safe spaces for the areas in trouble—we can work on setting up refugee housing. I’ll fork the money up front, and I’ll hire the right folks for the job. Not only that, but we can work on campaigning for government representatives to campaign across The Great Ocean, spreading the word of the Octarian plight. We can get them on the Board, start changing things now.>

<Aleck, we’ve tried that!>

<No, not like this.> He stands up. <Fitz, once the Special Forces Unit analyzes the Testing Facility, they can report it back to our military—we will easily be outmatched. Our government will have no choice but to be lenient. Until we have such proof, all I can do is promise you that change will come.>

<How long will it take? Years? _Decades?_ >

<It was Merise who helped me lay out the plan—and told me how It could work. I should have consulted with her from the start—we might have been able to save the Octarians in a whole different manner. It was my oversight that lead us here—and for that, I apologize.>

<While I’ll admit that I’m impressed, I still have no grounds that this will come to pass. What if you fail?>

<Then we keep trying, the _right_ way. >

<While thousands die?!>

<Fitz, thousands will die on either side—and if your people attack us, we’ll be forever divided. You’ll be seen as a threat, and more force will be commissioned to stop you. The best I can do is compromise, and use my wealth to buy land and start funding resources. We can start evacuation in the most dangerous of areas—starting immediately—but we need your cooperation. You know the danger zones—you could spearhead this entire project.>

Aleck feels hope in his heart when he can see the cracks in Fitz’s armour. <What is the name of your partner? We can honour it in her name.>

<Serilda.> He says softly, her name catching on his throat.

<Fitz, I understand what I’m asking you to do. It might seem like a betrayal at first, but you’ll be doing your people a permanent service. If you fight for the territory of Inkopolis, we’ll be fighting back and forth for eons, perhaps until the end of time. We can call it the Serilda Project.>

The emotion on Fitz’s face is evident—it’s clear that he agrees with the idea. What would be stopping him now would be doubt, and fear of the unknown. <You said yourself that you’re willing to do what others won’t.>

He pauses, contemplating Aleck’s words. <I need to hear this from a credible source before I come to a decision.>

<You don’t get to make demands. If you want me to get you the sources, you _must_ radio Branton. Tell him to bring Cordelia to the team, so we can escort her out safely. Only then will you get my cooperation. >

<How about this? I’ll meet with your forces, and we’ll wire through to Branton. You can tap the line—which I’m sure you will regardless of what I say—and see for yourself that she is safe. Then we get working on your plan. I will not fall away from the war—but—I will agree that I want the dangerous areas evacuated, and get my people to safer land. Get your wife talking to your sad excuse for politicians. I’ll put my pride aside for this matter—and this matter only.>

<Okay.> Aleck nods his head. He dials the Special Forces Unit, getting Otis back on the phone, putting the device on speaker mode. <Fitz has agreed to get in contact with Branton. But don’t make it public—keep it between the three of us.>

There is conflict in the man’s voice, but Aleck doesn’t question it. Fitz gives Otis the instructions to put him through to the assistant. Aleck braces himself—he’s been longing to hear Cordelia’s voice. Once he hears it, he’ll be at peace.

Aleck sits down again, tapping his fingers against his legs as his foot bounces. It was the best way that he could contain his nerves.

<General Chalmers, this is Elite Tyan, sir!>

<Elite, where is Sgt. Myars?>

Sgt. Myars had to be Branton’s official title.

The reception is weak. <Sgt. Myars is unaccounted for, sir. There’s been a massacre amongst out platoon, the ones with their loyalties intact tried to reach out to you, but the lines were cut.>

<Where did you find the radio?>

<In the cells—where we housed the test subjects. He’s either been dragged off or killed—I’m not liable to say. But, your sister—she’s held hostage by the rebels. I don’t think she has much time—>

Aleck covers his mouth—he feels as if he’s going to be sick.

Fitz’s face is laced with fear.

<Fitz, please! We have to get her out of there.>

 Betrayal, sadness, and failure flash across his son’s face.

<I’ll give the order that everyone in your group can enter the area. The minute I do, I need to get back home—If Branton is dead, that means Denton will be left without security. I need to protect him.>

<No, we can’t allow the General to leave.> Otis responds.

<You owe him this Otis, he needs to get to his son. I will take responsibility if he betrays us.>

Otis falls silent. <Given that we don’t have much of a choice, fine. General, if you may wire us into Security.>

***

<It’s okay, we’ll get through this.>

Melbourne pats Noralyn’s shoulder—the frail orange haired Inkling rocks her Hero Charger. Fear was setting into the bones of this rescue crew—Radjerd could easily see it in the eyes of the inexperienced. Meanwhile, Radjerd had no such time, his mind occupied with the annoyance that was Agent 3. He was so chipper and gung-ho that he would have gouged the man’s insides swiftly if it weren’t for his combat expertise—no wait—the Octoling didn’t need that kind of back-up. Freydis and himself were all the firepower that they truly needed.

<Dammit, can’t that airhead work any faster?> Freydis grumbles under her breath, referring to Marina. <I’m dying of boredom here. I want to kick some fucking ass already.> She pulls out her Hero Dualies. Radjerd remembers the Elite’s enthusiasm as she tested them out—to her credit, they looked like a lot of fun to wield. It was a delight to watch Melbourne’s face grow fearful as she practiced. It was Freydis, she was going to do whatever the hell she wanted. Melbourne outfitted himself with an N-Zap '89, keeping it only to shield Freydis if necessary. As for Radjerd, he took the regular, boring old N-Zap. He liked the sleekness of the weapon. There was something powerful about its simplicity. 

<Headquarters said that they’re working on a solution. We have to wait until we get an opening.> The green haired Inkling reminds the group as he hoists his Hero Splatling in the air. Was he trying to show off?

<Yeah, we know that you _sugartit_. > Freydis rolls her eyes. <You agents are super annoying.>

<Freydis, be nice.> Her husband scolds her.

<Shut up Mel.> She shakes her head. <He’s a fucking sugartit, right Noralyn?> Her sea blue eyes hover on the shivering Inkling girl. Radjerd notices that the Inkling Agent scowls heavily at Freydis’ insult. He tries his best not to laugh—she was completely right—even if he didn’t fully understand her remark.

Melbourne rolls his eyes—judging how casual he was about her behaviour, she must talk to him that way a lot. Radjerd is glad he wasn’t the only one who dealt with her nonsense. But Noralyn’s sudden nerves were troublesome. If he had known she would act this way, he wouldn’t have allowed her on the mission. She had seemed fairly confident until they had their first stall—which was right now.

<It’s okay, we’ll get through this. Freydis is one of the best fighters we have on our squad.>

<I know that, but what if my efforts aren’t good enough for this team? I don’t want to fail you—it’s been a long time since I played Turf—what if my rustiness kills one of you?>

<It won’t. You won’t let that happen, and besides—you’re better at the scopes than any one of us here.>

<Noralyn honey, you’re gutsy as hell. You have to, to be the mother of your son.> Freydis laughs.

<Freydis, now isn’t the time to joke around.> Melbourne scolds her again, but apparently for no reason. Noralyn’s mouth grows into a smile, as a small laugh escapes her frail lips.

<Yeah, Freydis has a point. It’s not the first time I heard this about Landon. But, I can’t help but worry if I’m going to hold you all back.>

<You won’t. It’s just the calm before the storm, it’s natural to be nervous. I understand what that feels like, it’s okay. Once you’re in the heat of things, you’re going to be so caught up in the moment that you won’t have time for worrisome thoughts.>

<You’re right, you’re totally right.> Noralyn takes a couple of breaths in and out. <I’m being stupid—I’m sorry.>

<You’re hella brave for signing up, I’m impressed that you’re here.> Agent 3 adds, <Might I say, Turf is excellent practice for the battlefield! Also, if I may, I remember a long time ago seeing a player with your complexion with a charger—you were one of the best. I know that you’ll have nothing to worry about.>

Freydis rolls her eyes. <The sugartit is right.>

<Stop calling me a sugartit.> He warns.

<What are you going to do, put me in my place? Don’t forget, I’m pregnant sweetie—it’s going to look bad on you to hit a pregnant lady.> She winks, in Noralyn’s direction. Melbourne buries his face in his hands and groans.

They wait patiently in the station hall, the guard at the front was rightfully suspicious of them. The Octoling girl didn’t seem to take any notice of Freydis’ position—in fact—denied it due to her current _betrayal_. Of course, that General would throw Freydis into the ground as a traitor. He flew off the handle a little too fast for his liking.

Aleck made him promise he wouldn’t hurt the General—but when he came face to face with the man—he’d pound his fucking face in. He would pay for putting Radjerd through agonizing sleepless nights. It didn’t matter if Aleck reassured that the General wouldn’t hurt Cordelia. Radjerd wasn’t going to bet anything on Aleck’s promise—he would never see his son as a bad man, even though he was.

Agent 3’s radio beeps immediately, the Inkling tapping his earbud immediately.

He encourages all participants to listen in.

Radjerd’s eyes widen as his heart speeds up. He knows that voice anywhere.

_General Fucking Chalmers._

Radjerd’s eyes meet Freydis’ immediately, the two exchange shocked glances as he speaks.

<Due to recent events, I have agreed to lend my aid. The guards will let you in due to my instructions. Listen to my directions carefully.>

<Where the hell is she?!> Radjerd growls immediately. <I’m not moving an inch unless you tell me where Cordelia is.>

<Lad, please. Listen to Fitz. He knows where Cordelia is.> Aleck’s voice is on the line as well. How was this possible—were in the same room?!

<I bet he does, luring us into a trap.> He replies, speculation lacing his tone.

<Yeah, I’m with Rad on this one. I’m not going to trust anything that man says.> Freydis backs him up. <You’re going to have to do a lot more than mince words—especially after betraying me the way you did.>

<As hard as it is to believe, I _need_ you to get Cordelia out of there. She’s no longer safe, and most of the Elites won’t listen to my direction. The ones that remain loyal will still help you, that I can say in full confidence. >

Radjerd is enraged—how dare he take advantage of the fact that he is Aleck’s son. And worst of all, Aleck believes him! <I’m not following anything that man says. I will not be duped.>

<This is why I can’t trust you with any sort of responsibility, you don’t listen to reason—you focus on the illicit instead of using common sense.>

<Says the man who banned me from my home—and kidnaps his own sister.>

<She’s better off with me—I won’t put her own family in jeopardy—>

<Okay, that’s enough. Lad, I need you to listen to Fitz. He will bypass the noise that’s going on, with Marina’s assistance. Please, I know it’s hard to trust him after what he did to you, but you need to focus. Cordelia depends on you staying level headed.>

<As much as I hate to say it, Aleck’s right.> Freydis sighs despondently, disconnecting her ear-piece mic. <It’s suspicious that The General says that he needs our help, but at the same time, the Agents have their eyes on him. I don’t know how he got there—or why he’s deciding to lay all on the line, but if things turn funny, I’m positive we can hold our ground. We’ve been equipped with some of the best armour and weapons—we can do this.>

Radjerd knows that Freydis is right—she always was.

<If he tries anything, our Special Forces Unit knows what to do.> Agent 3 adds, <Don’t worry, we’ll get your wife out of there.>

<Yeah.> Noralyn stands up. <I came here to rescue my friend, and I won’t let any of you down.>

Radjerd takes a deep breath before speaking. <Fine. What is it that we have to do?>

<I’m glad you smartened yourself up.> Of course, The General had to wedge that one in there, didn’t he… Bastard! <Enter the gate and you all should have clearance. I’ll give you all the next steps before long.>

The group enters the doorway, the Guard asking for I.D. It was good of the Agent to come up with some sense of identity—they were all approved. Radjerd was paranoid that the General wouldn’t have let him through, but it turns out that he kept to his word. It still meant nothing—he had a terrible feeling about this. But one thing was sure—he was inching closer to Cordelia. He would make it there in time—he would save her.

They would be put to the test, and Radjerd was ready for it.

No matter what he had to do.


	46. Chapter 46

Soft humming noises wake Cordelia from her dreary, drug-induced slumber. It feels similar to a hangover, a feeling she hadn’t incurred in quite some time. Her thoughts are scattered, she can’t remember if she were in the room The General had her stay in, or if Branton had brought her to his place. No, that doesn’t seem right.

Cordelia attempts to move her wrists, they’re bound by metal claps. Cordelia looks down, noticing her dress was cut short, the skirt puffed out so far she can’t see her toes. She kicks her feet, attempting to free them. Her ankles are bound by a similar restraint system. She should count her blessings that she sat upright, in a comfortable padded chair. They could have chained her to a metal table.

As Cordelia fidgets, she feels her temples tug against a wire—two sticky pads rest at the side of her forehead—was she hooked up to a machine?! It was hard to tell, she could hardly see what was around her. Her eyes dart around to examine her surroundings. She notices a strange monitor to the left of her, but she can’t see what’s on the screen. The surfaces around the monitor couldn’t even serve as a reflection—of course, it had to be complicated.

Cordelia’s discomfort grows with each passing minute, her lips are dry, her throat becomes parched.

Cordelia takes a deep breath, wriggling with all of her might, attempting to thrash around, but all that does is disturb the pads around her temples, releasing a small electrical surge. She hisses from the pain.  _God, that fucking hurt!_

Thoughts of Branton and Pearl shoot through her memory—oh  _god!_ She doesn’t know what became of Branton or Pearl. They were most likely dead—and she was no doubt going to be next. Who knows what these horrid Octolings injected into her while passed out. At this rate, she’s surprised she’s able to feel all of her limbs, or, that she still had them.

Cordelia clamps her teeth together when she hears the creak of the door, the blood drains from her face.

<You’re finally awake I see.> Cordelia follows the voice to the doorway. A small Octoling woman with mauve hair is pulled back in a tight bun. Her face is gentle, despite her menacing red eyes. Cordelia can’t read Octarian, she can’t read the silver nametag attached to the woman’s collar. She heads over to the large monitor before she types on the keyboard below.

<Everything seems in check.> The woman makes a mental note, muttering to herself. She turns the monitor around, Cordelia in awe at what she sees. It was capturing her exact position, copying her motions. If it weren’t being used on her, she would have thought the machine to be fascinating.

<I thought the dose the Elites gave you was too strong, but your body seems to have compartmentalized it, according to the colours around your arm here.> She points to the monitor with her finger, outlining the yellow-ish parts of her arm on the screen. <That’s where your injection was. The yellow outlines the serum. You’ll see it’s mostly around your head, thankfully, not spreading to any major organs. I was worried they’d exhaust your kidneys, or paralyze your liver. If that were the case, you’d be dead within six hours.>

Cordelia narrows her steel blue eyes. How  _specific_  of her.<Wouldn’t it be better if I was dead? It’d be a lot easier for you lot to test on me.>

<I never liked the idea of testing on other living beings. I’m a woman of medicine—I’ve taken the oath to ensure our soldiers’ health before all else. Just because I want to support the efforts of our cause doesn’t mean I want to torture the prisoners.> Soft clicks of the keyboard trickle through her ears. <Your body’s adapting well, you must be in top shape. Which, I suppose is favourable. No soldier of ours will be effective nutrient deprived, although I disagree that you should be a soldier at all.>

<They want me to be a soldier?> Cordelia’s words feel hollow.

<Yes, they do. You were an Agent who worked for the Inklings, so you’d be most effective in their secrets and locations. Although, apparently you’re to be used in the front lines instead of in Intel, which in my opinion, is a waste of your potential. It’d make more sense after all, given your condition.> She shakes her head. <But what do I know, I’m just a measly assistant.>

Cordelia isn’t sure what to make of this information. They want to use her in the front lines—god, it’s just like when Callie was abducted. Was the same thing going to happen to her? No, The General had mentioned that hypnosis was a cheap tactic—there was a better way to get things done—a more permanent solution… Oh no. Cordelia’s stomach falls, her nerves spike. It recorded on the monitor, she could see colours of pink and red pulsing from her chest, filling the outline on the screen.

<I didn’t mean to alarm you. I know you’re under stressful circumstances, and don’t worry. I promise I’ll do what I can to ease the transition. The serum won’t hurt you, or your baby.>

<My what?> Cordelia’s face contorts in confusion. Her  _baby?_

<I don’t think I heard you right.> She arches her brow in confusion. <Because I’m not in possession of an infant.>

The octoling woman pauses, looking over the monitor. <Not quite, it’s still a ball of cells at this point.> She taps the bottom of her chin. <You can’t see it now, but I could zoom up if you’d like to take a peek.>

<Alright, hold up a second.> Cordelia tries to raise her hand, but the metal clasp prevents her from doing so. <Are you implying that you think I’m pregnant?>

<There’s nothing to imply; you  _are._ >

Cordelia narrows her eyes again. <As I said to one of your doctors, I’d never make that mistake.>

The woman lets out a sigh, moving the monitor closer to Cordelia. With two fingers, she zooms in on the outline of her midsection. It changes to a grittier texture until the woman zooms in carefully. She points to the small, pulsing mound on the screen—it couldn’t have been bigger than a nickel. <Right there, see? That’s your baby.>

It takes a minute for Cordelia to comprehend what she was seeing. <But— _but. > _She couldn’t talk herself out of this one. The proof was right before her very eyes. Her jaw hangs open, her eyes wide—she couldn’t deny its existence. It had a small heartbeat—anxiety and awe mix into one overbearing feeling of surprise.

She had no words.

<I apologize, I thought you knew. This must be quite difficult to comprehend.> The octoling woman steps back. <Do you need a moment to yourself?>

She remains wide-eyed, staring at the screen in shock. That was  _her_  baby. Nothing else came to mind—her eyes fixed on the wonder that stared back at her.

<No, it’s fine.> She speaks quietly. Her mouth barely moves.

<I promise, I will do all that I can to ensure that your baby remains healthy. Once you serve your purpose, I will be glad to send you on your way.>

Cordelia tries to speak, but her words are jumbled.

<How old is it?>

<It’s about seven weeks old if I were to guess. We’re only able to monitor a heartbeat at six weeks, so it can't be much older.>

Sudden tears stream down her face, she bites her lip to contain a sob. Her head was mixed with fear, worry, confusion. She couldn’t even worry about fate turning her into a horrible mother; she was going to be forced to fight for the Octarians. She didn’t even have the choice if she wanted to keep it or not, her fate was decided for her—even if the woman assured her otherwise. Cordelia hears a voice attempts to comfort her, but she’s lost in her own head. Her sobs are replaced with quickened breathing, her head exploding with anxiousness. Cordelia repulses the idea of a comforting gesture. Never in her life did she feel so screwed. Who’s funny idea was this—she couldn’t even get attached to the idea of her baby! Maybe this Octoling was nice, but as soon as she was out of the picture, her fate would be up in the air.

<Please, calm down. You’re going to be fine! Please, don’t make me sedate you.>

God, no! <No more drugs. Please!>

<And what’s this? Behilda, you promised me that you’d be able to calm her down.> No, that couldn't be another Elite! 

<Elite Verda!> The woman appears frightened. This wasn’t good. <I wasn’t done prepping the patient—I need more time!>

<You’ve done enough. I told you, your soft heart won’t do you any good here. We’re trying to liberate our people, we have to take all chances.>

<But she’s pregnant!>

<Like I care.> The Elite moves slowly, eying Cordelia with her icy green eyes. <Although, it was a shame to see them cut that dress so haphazardly.>

<Stay away!> Cordelia spits out in fear.

<Please, she’s scared, can’t you see?>

The Elite pushes the shorter woman out of the way. <Get me the needle.>

<She’s not ready!>

<Don’t argue with me, subordinate! Unless you want to take her place.>

Letting out a frustrated grunt, the woman hands her a giant yellow syringe. <Don’t jam it into her at once, she needs to take in the Ink slowly.>

<Don’t speak out of line!> She barks, ordering for the smaller Octoling woman to leave. To Cordelia’s disappointment, she does. The Elite examines Cordelia’s frightened demeanour. <Look, I have nothing against Inklings, but I have a job to do. We’ve had a breach with security, and I need to take it upon myself to move it forward. You’re a skilled fighter—we need you on our side.>

<I don’t understand what you mean, I can’t fight.> Cordelia attempts a half-assed lie.

<Oh, you can’t, can you?> She lifts a brow. <You’re Agent 4.> Her smile turns devilish. <I’ve seen firsthand what you’re capable of.>

<Have you?> Cordelia’s disturbed by her words.

<Yes, I used to be on the front lines, but it’s much more fascinating manipulating the minds of others—and so easy, too.>

Cordelia holds her breath, nervous at what might come.  She grins, as a dark figure follows behind her, with eyes all too familiar to Cordelia. 

<Branton?!> Cordelia shrieks as his dark hand curled into a fist. His brows lower, his mouth in a permanent growl. <Apparently you scorned this poor man. It’s only appropriate he gets his revenge.>

Cordelia scrambles, but to no avail. He walks towards her, his lips growing slimmer with each step.

<Branton’s always had a soft heart—this should be an interesting turn of events.> The Elite grins, stepping back as Cordelia lets out a shriek.

<Branton, please! I’m sorry!> She squeaks before his hand squeezes her throat. His strength shone through, as she feels the wobble of his grip against her windpipe.

<You aren’t even marked.> He hisses, disdain dripping in his tone. <Which is why I thought I had a chance with you. You lead me on, just to make a fool out of me. General Chalmers said it was a pointless pursuit, but I didn’t want to believe him. If only you made yourself less convincing, I could have lived with the fact that you were pregnant, but you’re just a worthless slut!>  

<Easy,  _easy. > _Cordelia hears the Elite say. <We don’t want her dead, remember?>

Cordelia lets out another scream, but Branton muffles it with his large hand. With his other one, he jams the syringe into her arm, releasing the contents way too quickly. It’s disorienting—she’s going to be sick.

<If we can change the mind of this gentle man, yours will be easy to warp.>

Branton lifts his hand from her mouth, eying her with disappointment.

<General Chalmers was a coward. He abandoned us, despite the dream he had for you. He wanted to help you raise your child, raise a companion for Denton. He abandoned his mission, all for the sake of his familial delusions.>

An overwhelming bout of nausea hits her, this was fucked up for so many reasons. There was no way she was getting out of this alive. Cordelia screams, only to be suffocated yet again. <When will you see that this isn’t about you?! Our people deserve a chance to live above the surface!>

<Branton, keep her arm still. I’m going to finish the last of the injections before that little do-gooder’s able to undo what we started.>

<I will.> He pins her neck back, his strong arm still over her mouth. She wriggles in his grasp, the electrical shocks hindering her movements. Tears spill from her eyes, her cries fall on deaf ears. Her movements begin to weaken—no, not again! She prays, bargaining  _anything_ to prevent being knocked on her ass again. Her mind shifts as her body grew hot—sweat was building between her brows. Her dress was hot, restrictive, uncomfortable. Her face felt flushed a heat rash. Her mind grows delirious with thoughts of surrender, her previously clenched fists fall to the wayside. Her head droops in place. Her limbs begin to shake, her mind becoming mush. She expected pain, but all she feels is the heat claiming her body, her heart racing at an incredible pace. It’s overwhelming, to the point where she cries, loudly. Another uncomfortable whimper leaves her lips—an unexpected drive to stay in control was among her. No, she refused to give in. She grits her teeth, feeling the sweat drip down her face. At the brink of it all, now the tension builds, the fear grows larger. She had to stay in control. She wasn’t going to bend her will that easily.  

<Keep her there, I’m going to grab her gear. The serum won’t take long to take effect—I want her battle ready.>

Cordelia hears the door lock. It was a harrowing sound.

<General Chalmers won’t be able to rescue you—none of them will. They will pay for delaying this war, and you will help us take them down.>

No, she won’t—she wouldn’t be a part of this war. If they were able to turn soft-hearted Branton into this—monster—maybe she didn’t have a chance. 

Never in her life did Cordelia feel this scared.

***

 

Radjerd couldn’t believe it—after all this time…

There it was.

Six stories tall, encased in a rustproof metal with small circular windows lining the corners of the wall. This had to be the Testing Facility. Radjerd expected something much larger—the building being thrillingly daunting in his imagination.   

<Don’t get any funny ideas about trying to blow it up—Radjerd, I’m serious.> Freydis scolds him. <We need evidence that this place exists—it’s our bargaining chip with Congress. This could be a great bargaining chip to force them into negotiations.>

Radjerd was able to hear what Freydis was saying, but he was close—so close. His priority was Cordelia. Once they get her out—maybe—just maybe—no, what was he thinking? He promised that he would leave this behind and bring Cordelia home. She’s the one that matters now, despite what his previous ambitions had been. He needs to be present—to be clear. Cordelia  _has_ to be the goal.

<I have every intention of rescuing her.> Radjerd remains focused on the building ahead.

<Good. Make sure that you remember why we’re here.> She gives him a warning look. <I’m not risking my life for some vigilante mission of yours. I’m here for  _your wife_. >

<What’s our next step?> Agent 3’s voice catches the Octoling’s attention, his violet eyes lingering on the speaker. <General, we’ll need your assistance from here on out. I doubt your squadron will appreciate our presence on your grounds.>

<Elite Marina is working on the signal interruption—it’s lessening now, I might be able to gain control through my side.> Reluctance is heard in the General’s voice. Haring the man speak boils his blood. Recomposing himself, Radjerd presses on. He can save all his frustrations for later. <Once I do, I need you all to move in, and split up. Sgt. Myars is out of commission, who knows where they might have taken Cordelia.>

<You better pray that she’s not hurt,  _General_. > Radjerd’s disdain was evident, all eyes on him. <If she is, you’re going to feel exactly—>

<Lad, please. We need you to be focused. If not for anyone’s sake but Cordelia’s.> Aleck’s words help the Octoling correct his focus.

<He’s right, Rad.> Agent 3 nods. <All of us have to work together, as hard as that might be. We have the same goal—to ensure Cordelia’s rescue.>

<Don’t call me Rad.> He hisses at the green haired Agent, stinking a clear pointed finger in his direction.

<Focus on the front doors. They will be guarded by Elite Terra and Elite Gagnon. Be careful, my squadron has been ordered to shoot intruders at no cause.>

<Great, thanks for that.> Radjerd rolls his eyes. He doesn’t see Melbourne’s worried expression, or Freydis whispering softly to her husband. Agent 3 and Noralyn take the rear, keeping watch of any potential threats. Radjerd grips the trigger of his N-Zap, ready to strike at moment’s notice.

<Don’t go in pointing your weapons all willy-nilly. You’ll set everyone into discourse.> The General reminds them. <Lower them at your side, and keep calm. You’re helping me gain control of the facility—nothing else.>

<I’m not.> Radjerd mutters under his breath.

<Yes you are—I can hear the telltale sounds of slapping your weapon around. That’s going to make this operation a failure.>

<Yeah, I’d shove it up your ass if I could.>

<Keep your unsavoury actions to yourself.> Radjerd grins as he hears the General’s voice inflicted with irritation.

<Children, the both of you.> Noralyn pinches her brows together. <Can we get to Cordelia before the two of you completely blow it?>  

<It’s just a cockfight—you know how this will turn out.> Freydis shrugs.

<Noralyn’s right. Whatever grudge the two of you have needs to cease,  _now_. We can’t afford any mistakes. > Otis pages in.

<He exiled me from my home if you haven’t forgotten!> Radjerd grumbles.

<For good reason, you’re volatile, reckless, and surely unfit for this mission.>

<That’s enough. Now, focus on the mission at hand. Both of you.> Otis raises his voice through the earpiece.

Radjerd glowers, while Fitz mutters under his breath. <Very well. Now, do you see the guards?>  

They approach the large metal doorway. Two Elites stand guard, both large in stature. They do as the General instructs, lowering their weapons by their side.

<Elite Vanderlin?!> One of the guards recognizes Freydis right away. It’s peculiar, from what Radjerd notices, Freydis doesn’t seem to recognize the Elite talking to her, but she keeps her cool. 

<Yes, I’m back--Elite Terra?> The Octoling nods in response. <In fact, I returned because General Chalmers instructed that I needed to quell the chaos inside the facility before damage is done.>

<But… Our General gave us strict instruction to keep you away from facility affairs.> The other Elite raises their Octo Shot—pointing it at Freydis. She raises her hands, smiling as she slips her dualies in each holster.  

<That was until we had our own little mutiny inside there, sugar. Now if you please, can you let us through? If you’d like to talk to our commander in chief, I have him right here.> She taps her earpiece, cocking her hips to the side.

<If that’s so, then why not have him wire through to us, this instant?> She raises a suspicious brow.

<General, I might need your help here.>

<Signal interference is still a problem. It seems we can’t page through.> Marina’s voice echoes through the earpiece. <I’m so sorry.>

<It’s fine.> Otis assures her. <We can still do this.>

<If it’s truly our General on the line, then he’ll be able to tell you the song he gets us to sing to his son.> Elite Gagnon speaks. <It’s an irritating tune.>  

<Care to tell us the name of the melody?> Freydis sing-songs her request.

<…Denton and I have a blueberry jam song. He loves it, and it helps calm him down when he visits the facility.>

Radjerd’s amused by the sound of the General’s discomfort.

<Fitz, you can’t mean the song that I used to sing to you when you were but a chap.>

<This is not the time,  _Aleck. >_ The General hisses.

<Some blueberry jam song he sings with his kid?> Freydis repeats in confusion, shrugging. 

Elite Terra seems surprised. <So you do have the General on the line? Thank goodness, to be honest. I’m too scared to enter the facility myself, but you know what they say about members who abandon their post. I have no desire to experience what’s going on in there.> She speaks in one breath. <But, why isn’t the General here with you?>

<He’s tied up, not in the literal sense before you get any ideas. We’re here to quell the uprising like I said.>

<Give me your earpiece.> Elite Gagnon waves his hand over. Freydis shrugs and does as she’s told. The Elite listens, asking for the General’s name. He widens his eyes in alarm as the General chews out the underling, handing the earpiece back to Freydis. <You may enter.>

The doors open, the entrance cold, and murky. It wasn’t as advanced as Radjerd was expecting. After they close, Agent 3 speaks.

<General, where are they holding Cordelia?>

<She used to be on the sixth floor, but I highly doubt that it’s still the case. I’d suggest splitting off into pairs with one range and one combat.  You need to cover each other to avoid a surprise ambush.>

Radjerd hated taking direction from the General, but it was a solid plan. <Okay, I’ll go with Noralyn—> Radjerd speaks but is interrupted by Agent 3.

<No, I’ll be going with you.> Agent 3 alerts as he taps the barrel of his splatling. <You’re the one I want to keep an eye on.>

<It’s for the best—because Noralyn is with me.> Freydis smiles, wrapping an arm around the woman. <And Mel. I’m not letting him out of my sight.>

<We should explore the basement, we have more firepower.> Agent 3 waves Radjerd over. <It's safer for them if they go upstairs.>

<And what do you mean by  _safer?_ Don't think little old me can handle myself?> Freydis glowers.

<Listen, I get that you’re an Elite, but the fact of the matter is, you’re pregnant.>

<I told you, I’m  _capable_  of handling myself.>

<Of course. I wasn’t implying that you couldn’t. But upstairs poses less of a risk. If my calculations are correct, most of the activity would be present below. Am I right, General?> He responds quickly, affirming Agent 3’s theory.

<I’m starting to like you less and less,  _sugartit_. > Freydis mumbles.

<Please, let’s keep focused. I understand my wife’s risky behaviour, but that’s why I’m here. I appreciate your concern, but my wife’s got it figured out.>

<God dammit Mel, I don’t need  _you_  talking over me.> Freydis mutters. <Let’s go Noralyn, can’t let Mel grow  _too_  much of a backbone.> She pulls Noralyn from the entrance, making her way to the upstairs elevator. Which means, Radjerd is left with the one and only  _sugartit,_  Agent 3.

<Was she always this bullheaded?>

<Ever since we were kids.> Radjerd shakes his head. <It adds to her charm.>

<I don’t know if I’d call it charm.> Agent 3 rolls his eyes as he presses the down button to signal the elevator. Both wait until the elevator door pings, the two entering inside.

Radjerd starts to get antsy. He's ready to raise some hell. 

 


	47. Chapter 47

Radjerd holds his posture straight and stiff, first to get the incredulous and annoying Agent 3 off his back. The Inkling was becoming too much for him to take—nagging him every time he opened his damn mouth. Either his footing was wrong, or the way he was holding his N-Zap was incorrect. He couldn’t believe the man’s incessant nit-picking. Only eight seconds in the elevator and Radjerd was ready to jump ship. The incessant tapping of the man’s boot gets to him. He sees the Agent fiddle with his earpiece.

<You really have to calm down. I’ve been trying to forgive your rudeness given the situation, but there’s only so much I can take.> Agent 3 says calmly, but Radjerd understands he's purposely prodding him. 

<I’m the one that’s rude? You’re the one who doesn’t seem to understand—the man you want me to cooperate  _kidnapped my wife_ and  _exiled me from my home_. You forgot that little tidbit, didn’t you? > He growls through his teeth.

The elevator dings, as Agent 3 steps out. Appearing to survey the area, Radjerd reluctantly follows him to a secluded corridor. The green haired Inkling rattles the door handle, taking a peek inside, waving Radjerd to follow him in. The Octoling's confused but follows anyway.

Agent 3 lets out a long-drawn sigh. <It’s not only that, but you’re purposely alienating me—as well as putting others at risk with your theatrics.> He speaks, shutting the door behind him. It’s a storage room. 

Radjerd turns around, his violet eyes alight with irritation. <You have the gall to talk to me like that? You forget  _I’m an elite._ I’ll kick your bloody ass if I have to.>

<Alright, that’s enough.> Agent 3 grabs Radjerd’s collar, the man’s actions taking him by surprise. <You’re going to get the both of us killed with that pent-up energy, so say to me what you need to, and let’s get moving.>

 _< For fuck’s sake_, I don’t have time for this.> Radjerd attempts to leave the room, but Agent 3 grabs his neck, puncturing his thumb into the corner of his shoulder. Agent 3 takes this opportunity to grab his earpiece. Radjerd feels his shoulders slump, the N-Zap clatters against the gritty tile floor. 

<W-what the hell!?> He gripes in anger, picking the N-Zap off of the ground. <You could have broken my weapon!> 

<Don’t test my patience.> Agent 3 sighs again. <Unless we talk, you’re going to get a lot of people killed. My mistake was assuming it was just nerves, but there’s clearly more that’s going on. I’ve put our earpieces on standby—so we won’t have the General listening in. What’s going on?>

<You’re out of your mind!> Panic fills the Octoling’s throat. <We don’t have time for this.>

<What we don’t have time for, is your immaturity. Freydis I learned is a lost cause, but even she isn’t dumb enough to let her emotions cloud her judgement. You on the other hand—this is your wife we’re saving, but your focus is all over the place. That concerns me.>

Radjerd shoots the Agent a dirty look.

<Why the hostility? You realize that we need to be able to trust each other—and I sure as hell don’t trust you. Honestly, why are you even trying if you’re just being so damn difficult?> Was the Agent trying to goad him on purpose? If he was, he’ll soon regret it.

<You bastard, how  _dare_  you! It’s because of you damn agents that we had to wait as long as we did to come down here in the first place. You professionals take your damn sweet time to get things done, while I barely slept in the past two weeks because of  _politics._  You have no right to tell me I’m the one who's acting irrationally.>

Agent 3 shakes his head. <I chose to follow you because I don’t trust you’re going to stay focused. I was warned by Otis of your  _…destructive_  tendencies, and while I know your heart is in the right place, we can’t afford any mistakes. You’re still thinking about destroying the facility—when it’s a crucial place we still need standing. Proving that this place exists  _will_  help us stall, and possibly end this war. You understand that, right?>

<You think I’m going to destroy the facility with Cordelia still inside? I’d never put her life in danger.>

<But you’re going to destroy it afterwards.>

<That’s none of your concern—>

<Are you listening to yourself right now!? I can’t believe you’re so dense.> Agent 3 throws his hands up in the air. <What part of  _ending the war_  didn’t you understand?>

<I understood what you said perfectly. It’s you who doesn’t understand—the Testing Facility produces  _drones_ , that are carbon copies of us Octolings. Lifeless beings that are going to be slaves, forevermore—soon replacing our kind with more obedient bodies. Could you let something like that slide if Inklings were the ones being cloned for battle?>

The Agent’s ocean blue eyes soften, <I’m sorry, but you can’t do it. Once we rescue Cordelia, we need to leave as soon as we can. I’ve been snapping pictures of the building—and plan to explore more of the interior to get a layout. Our Agents will then decide how they want to tackle the problem—one that won’t send a hostile message. Unless you  _want_ there to be a war?>

<I don’t know.> Radjerd gruffly admits.

<You do ...But why?> 

Radjerd pauses, letting out a frustrated sigh. <My life is fucked up enough as it is, and I’m holding onto the idea that Cordelia will stick it out with me—it’s what makes the surface appealing. But, what if she lost interest in me—because she thought I abandoned her?>

<What on earth are you talking about?> Agent 3 raises a concerned brow.

Radjerd couldn’t admit to him his innermost fear—Cordelia’s feelings wearing off. If the war ceased to exist, she would have no reason to keep him around. She’d send him on his way, and he’d have nowhere to go. Aleck liked him, for now. But that’d likely wear off too. If not for the Firthes, Radjerd would be cast aside, lost to the society that he once hated.

<Talk to me.> It’s more of a demand than a kind suggestion.

<You don’t know what it’s like to be burdened with what you can’t control. This war was supposed to liberate us Octolings, give us the chance we deserved. I’m constantly being thrown back and forth between you Agents and the Firthes, when it’s only Cordelia that I’m here for.>

<There’s more.> The green haired Inkling crosses his arms. <You need to tell me, or I’m not letting you out of here.>

There was no point in arguing. Agent 3 had the technique to keep to his word—he proved that earlier.

<Are you sure those mics are off?>

<Standby, which means they’re muted, yes.>

<I can’t believe I’m telling you this…> Radjerd seethes. <I’m not trying to start the war. But, if it doesn’t happen—I’ll be cast out by Cordelia. I get that her dad likes me, but if she doesn’t want me around, then there’s no point in staying. I’ve been exiled by that General, and the Elites see me as a traitor. I have nowhere to go.>

<Cordelia’s your wife—she  _married_ you.>

<Because she’s trying to protect me! Her feelings waver so frequently because they’re not real.>

<You’re not making any sense. From what I understand, Cordelia Firthe is a finicky woman—the fact that she married you must mean something?> 

Radjerd frowns. There was no sense explaining how  _marking_  worked to an Inkling. <She thinks she likes me more than she actually does.>

Agent 3 chuckles. <Even if Cordelia married you just to protect you from deportation, that speaks volumes in itself. I think you’re overthinking things.> He crosses his arms. <I’m with someone too. We’re not married, but maybe one day we will be—and sometimes I doubt if he likes me for me, or if he’s only in it for a free place to live. It's normal to doubt if your loved ones love you back.> 

Radjerd raises a curious brow. <He’s a bum?>

<No, he's not a bum. It’s a long story, but I helped him escape from the Underground.>

<He’s an Octoling then. I see.>

<Yes. I’ll call him Eight for now.>

<Eight, like in  _Agent Eight?_  I find it hard to believe that you have an Octoling as an Agent.> He says stiffly. 

<Of course, we’re not biased against Octolings—in fact, we hire based on skill alone—although that wasn’t the case at first. You have to let go of the fact that all Inklings hate you. If you and Cordelia didn’t see eye-to-eye, you’d have a chance in Inkopolis. It’s not just you that has a stake in this fight—Otis, Eight, and countless others do. If you’re still hellbent on taking down the facility, you could destroy those chances for not only yourself but for them too.>

Radjerd frowns, heavily. Freydis was also a part of that equation now. He hated that this Agent had some good points.

<Can we call a temporary truce, at least until our mission is complete? I promise you, I’ll have your back, but I need you to promise me that you have mine. I can’t afford you to fuck this up. I want there to be a future for me and Eight, and no matter what happens, I can’t let you interfere with that.>

<…Alright.> He takes Agent 3’s hand, shaking it twice. <We have a deal.>

<Good, I’m glad. I was afraid I might have botched the mission by delaying our investigation like this, but I need a partner who’s on the same page as me. Merise asked me to keep a close eye on you.>

<Did she now?> Radjerd raises a speculative brow.

<Yes, and I don’t blame her. After our meeting back at the Manor, you put everyone on edge. You forget that Cordelia  _is_ her daughter.>

Radjerd couldn’t argue with the Agent, even though he wanted to. It wasn’t easy to admit that he was wrong.

<I owe it to her, if not the entire Fastion family to bring Cordelia back safe and sound.>

<Fastion? You mean Firthe.>

<Nope, Fastion.> Agent 3 hands Radjerd back his earpiece. <Merise was a Fastion before she married Aleck Firthe—her family started and funded the Agents—and it’s because of them that they were able to merge and co-mingle with the Special Forces Unit. But more on that later—I’m afraid we’re running on borrowed time.> Before Agent 3 opens the door he asks, <Are we good? Can I trust you to stay focused on our mission?>

<Yes.> Radjerd nods, feeling sore about the conversation, but clear on his intentions. He would dedicate every action he had to rescue Cordelia. Agent 3 places both earpieces online, the sound of Otis and Marina’s voices swarm in immediately.

<Is everything alright—you put us on standby.> Otis is the first voice he hears.  

<We had a temporary issue, but it’s fine now.> He nods, smiling at Radjerd. He can tell it’s sincere. <We’re in the basement level, no signs of hostility. It’s almost eerily quiet.>

<Keep your guard. My squadron might be lurking nearby.> As much as the General’s voice bothers him, he has to keep a straight face. No more distractions—Cordelia has to remain his priority.

<We will. Anything else we should know?> Radjerd asks. He can tell that the General doesn’t know how to respond, an abrupt noise of confusion is heard through the earpiece.

<Keep your wits about you. My squadron was trained by the best—they would never abandon their post unless there was a good reason to.>

<Fair point.> Agent 3 adds, <Your two guards up front seemed rather concerned about the noise they heard. Do you think it was a trap?>

<It could be—regardless—the two of you need to keep focused. Don’t leave the floor until you’ve checked every room.>

<Don’t plan to. We’re checking right now, there’s no sign of anything amiss, just a lot of empty cells—hold on!> Agent 3 moves toward a closed cell. Inside is a resident with frosted pink tips. He feels like he’s seen the girl before, but it’s hard to pinpoint where. Agent 3’s broken speech forces Radjerd to raise both brows.

<That’s Pearl—Marina, Pearl’s here!>

<Thank the Gods!> Both hear Marina’s tearful response. <Is she okay?!>

<I think so, I can see she’s still moving, but we got to break into the cell. Marina, I know communication’s tough, but do you think you can bust through the security?>

The determination in her voice swells. <For Pearlie, I’ll do anything.>

Agent 3 taps his fingers, clearly nervous over their point of vulnerability. Radjerd takes watch, ensuring that they aren’t ambushed without warning. Marina was sure taking her sweet time with the lock. 

<Give me your splatling.> Radjerd gruffly says, reaching for Agent 3’s weapon. <Our locks are state of the art. We don’t have time to fiddle with it.>

<No, what the hell do you think you’re doing?> The Agent responds sharply.

Radjerd outmuscles the Agent’s grip, taking the beastly weapon. He knocks the steel barrel against the lock repeatedly. To the surprise of Agent 3, the lock falls apart. A smug grin grows across the Octoling’s face.

<It appears Radjerd handled it.> Agent 3 exclaims. <Looks like we can get in.>

<Sometimes brute force is all you need.> Marina chuckles, though it’s more out of nervousness than amusement. <Please check in on Pearlie, make sure she’s alright!>

<Don’t worry we’re on it, and tell Agent 1 to call back Agent 2—bring her back to Octo Canyon. We might need her as backup, just in case they're planning an offensive invasion.>

<Understood.> Otis pages in. <What’s Pearl’s status?>

Agent 3 leans down to the delirious Inkling, lifting her up from her spot. To Radjerd’s surprise, she doesn’t put up a fight.

<Pearl?>

Pearl’s gold eyes open, widening immediately when she sees who’s staring back at her. <Agent 3—oh my god. How on earth did you get down here?>

<Oh my god, Pearlie! Someone put me through to her—now!>

<Marina, I understand why you want to talk to her but we need both of them—> Radjerd takes the earpiece halfway through Otis’ sentence, offering it to the frosted tip Inkling. She smiles weakly, thanking him before she secures it around her ear. From how Marina sounded, she loved this girl. He can relate to how she feels. 

<Mar?> Pearl’s voice perks up. <I’m sorry for worrying you!>

Pearl's banter was heartwarming, even by Radjerd’s standards. He didn’t know what Marina was saying, but her emotional tones fluctuated. What he wouldn’t give to have the same resolution with Cordelia.  

<I don’t mean to interrupt, but why are you here?> Agent 3 asks.

<They were using me as some kind of subject.> Pearl replies dimly. <Cordelia was with me, they took her away. I don’t know what they plan to do with her.>

<Do you know where they took her?!> Radjerd panics.

<I’m sorry, I don’t. It was—it’s hard to remember.>

Radjerd grits his teeth, attempting to take control of himself. He had to keep a clear head. He’d be useless to Cordelia if his mind wasn’t clear. God, it was hard to stay focused.

<Radjerd, can you lift Pearl? I’d do it, but my splatling is heavy enough as is.>

<I can.> Radjerd lowers himself and scoops Pearl up, the girl much lighter than Cordelia. It’s slightly awkward, but he manages to switch his N-Zap into his dominant hand. <Are you comfortable?>

<I am, thanks to your chivalry.> Pearl winks playfully, but her smile soon falls. They don’t have time to reassure her fears, whatever they may be. They had to find Cordelia. <Wait a moment…> Pearl speaks again. <You’re Cordelia’s husband!> Her face despite it being sombre moments before turns into a wicked grin. <I got to commend you on your letter—it was quite juicy.>

<Excuse me?> He doesn’t understand why Pearl’s amusement tripled at that moment, her laugh turning into a chortle.

<I have to say, that burrito line of yours was  _hilarious._  Can I borrow that one?>

Radjerd’s violet eyes widen—how did she get her hands on Cordelia’s letter?

<I don’t mean to be a grouch, but can we keep our voices down? I hear footsteps.> Agent 3 holds out a hand in front of Radjerd and Pearl, the two of them swiftly following his directions. Through the damp corridor, they hear a number of footsteps. Shit… Radjerd knows it was too good to be true. They were going to be ambushed at any minute. He holds steady, securing Pearl with one arm, readying himself for impact. Agent 3 does the same.

Two Octolings rush the front, possessing Octo-Shots, locked and loaded. Their zombie-like appearance reminds Radjerd of the drones, but they wouldn’t be roaming around in the facility itself, would they? It seems like a waste of potential—considering the General’s squadron would have been stationed here.  

One speaks, but it’s monotone—in old Octarian.

<I don’t understand what it means.> Agent 3 seems perturbed. <Do you know what she’s saying?>

<The king is overruled. Destiny is ours.> Radjerd speaks, his stomach growing with nerves.

<They must be referring to the General.> Agent 3 surmises. <What do you make of this, General Chalmers?>

Silence.

<General?> Agent 3 repeats himself.

Radjerd can hear Marina’s voice from the earpiece Pearl wears, but he can’t understand what she’s saying.

<Don’t worry baby, I’m safe as can be with this hunk giving me a free lift.> Her joking nature was inappropriately timed, but it gets a smile out of Radjerd. Was she teasing Marina? It didn't matter—he had to keep focus on the two Octolings in front.

<Make sure to hold onto my neck if necessary. I might have to make swift movements.>

<Hell yeah! I’d help if I had more energy, but you know how it is—you’re poked and prodded for so long, your mind starts to go to strange, unusual places.> Pearl laughs nervously, but it’s obvious she’s scared. Radjerd can’t blame her—and can’t help thinking that Cordelia is in the same position. Agent 3 nods to Radjerd. It was clear what their plan was, the Agent taking the lead, charging up his splatling.

Radjerd looks down at Pearl.<Alright, just hold on—there’s likely more Octolings where they came from.>

<I don’t plan on letting go.> She laughs weakly. <Just no dodge rolls, okay?>

Radjerd allows the Agent to stay in the lead, securing Pearl with one arm, his N-Zap in the other. The nearest Octoling fires, yellow ink deploying from her weapon—thankfully for Radjerd, he swerves out of the way. He’s covered by Agent 3’s firepower, showering the Octolings with his own ink. He’s impressed by the Agent’s skills, they drop like flies. Either they were incredibly weak, or Agent 3 had a beastly weapon. Maybe it was a bit of both.

<More of them, up ahead!> Agent 3 calls out from ahead. <Protect Pearl at all costs.>

<What do you think I’m doing?!> Radjerd holds the N-Zap near him, leaving a trail of ink lining the hall. It would make excellent backup should Agent 3 need to recharge.

It was astounding how easy they were burning through the crowd—it was a little too easy. A couple more Octolings enter the fray, multiplying their firepower. Radjerd winces as he's hit in the knee—he hisses in pain, dropping his N-Zap. He’s fortunate it wasn’t Pearl, she held on as instructed. Wait—if it was acid ink—these  _were_  drones.  

<We’re going to be surrounded—these are the drones I was talking about!> Radjerd hurries his speech, dodging the drones’ attacks. <That’s why they were so easy to take down—they’re disposable.>

<The general says they weren’t supposed to be deployed until his say-so, meaning that they’re acting rogue. But if the drones are down here, where the hell is the squadron?> The Agent pauses, taking liberties with his splatling. <They could have used the drones as a distraction, but why …unless they are trying to buy some time—Oh god, we need to get upstairs and fast!>  

<Which means, they lead us down here on purpose!> Radjerd grits his teeth. <Cordelia has to be upstairs—we need to get back onto the elevators. I’ll keep them at bay, just get upstairs—now!>

<Come on, I’m not leaving you here.>

<Radjerd, I’ll be fine. Just go!>

He nods, following Agent 3’s orders. He’s right, Radjerd had to get upstairs. <I’m sorry, but you might be thrown into some dangerous territory.>

<Nah, I’ll be fine. You have little faith.> Pearl smiles. He had to admit, her enthusiasm was appreciated.

<I’m glad, things might be rough from here on out.>

<I just hope Cordelia is okay.>

<Me too.> He approaches the elevator, pressing the up arrow swiftly. To his relief, he steps in—the sounds of Agent 3’s weapon echoing through the halls. Radjerd reminded himself, the man is well trained. No drone could take him down.

<Can I have the earpiece back?>

<Yeah, I don’t need it—sorry babe.> Pearl unhooks the technology from her ear and hands it back to Radjerd.

<I’m back online—Agent 3’s handling the drones.> Radjerd reports. 

<Noralyn and Freydis report that there’s no strange activity upstairs, but I think it’s wise to regroup, just in case. 3 said he’d join shortly.>

<Just make sure that he does.> Radjerd replies to Otis. <They’re easy now, but if they increase in numbers, he’s going to have a hard time.>

Now was the time for Radjerd to come up with a plan. He’d meet with the others and hopefully, would find Cordelia shortly. She had to be in this building—but where?

***

Aleck sees the fear in his son’s eyes. He looks to Aleck, confliction evident in his stare.

<I can’t stay, Aleck. If my squadron isn’t in the facility, who knows where they are—or what they’re doing. I can’t leave my son, he’s still stuck in Octo Canyon. I need to get to him.> He briskly stands up.

<Otis, he’s right—he can’t leave his son unprotected. As a father, you understand—don’t you?>

There is a grave long pause before Otis speaks.

<Fine, but the General isn’t going alone. We’re going to send one of our guys to watch him, and if needed, provide backup.>  He clears his throat. <Go in, get your son, then come right back out. If you fail to follow said directions, you will be punished.>

<How dare you talk to me that way.> Fitz raises his voice. <Don’t speak to me like I’m some insolent child. When it concerns my son, I will give my life. You have my word.>

Otis softens his tone. <If you continue your cooperation—I might be able to pull some strings for you. But  _only_  if you prove your loyalty.>

<The only thing I request of you is to ensure Denton’s protection.> Aleck sees his son’s eyes moisten.

<I promise you, Denton will be safe.>

<Very well, send your assistant—but make it swift. I won’t wait forever.>

<I will deploy one immediately.>

Fitz looks to Aleck as he mutes his mic. <I still have no confidence in  _that_  man. Freydis and your Agent seem like the only competent ones.>

Aleck follows suit, needing a moment of privacy with his son. <Radjerd cares deeply for Cordelia. I understand he can seem …well, obtuse at times, but I’ve never seen a man more passionate.>

<Passionately disorganized.> Fitz mumbles.

<I can understand why. You and he have a lot of history, I can’t blame him for being hostile. All I ask is if the two of you cross paths, please be kind to him—for Cordelia’s sake.>

<You can’t expect me to ignore his crimes.> Irritation laces his voice. <But very well, at least until this mess is cleared.>

<And…> Aleck raises a finger. <I’d like to apologize for my ignorance. When you bring Denton back, I’ll adopt him into the family, as an honorary grandson.>

Fitz is flabberghasted.

<I want to right the wrongs I’ve created—watching you guide the rescue team, putting your bias aside—it’s inspiring. I want to do the same for you.>

<…Thank you, Aleck.>

<Maybe one day you can call me Dad again, just like the good old days.>

Aleck feels his heart skip a beat when he sees the ghost of a smile on his son’s lips. He says nothing, leaving the study. In minutes, Aleck turns the mic back on, hearing Fitz through the other end.

<I’m reporting that I’m by the main doors, although your wife looks quite unimpressed with me. I hope one of your Agents comes soon, I can’t say I feel safe around her.>

Aleck leaves his study, surprised to see Merise stomping up the stairwell. He quickly enters the room again, closing the door behind him. Merise doesn’t bother knocking, letting herself in.

 “I’m curious as to why I see that man  _lingering_  downstairs.”

“He’s waiting for an Agent to arrive, he’s going back down to Octo Canyon to grab his son.”

“How could you let him leave—that man needs to be jailed.” Merise replies hotly.

“He’s only looking to protect his child—his squadron has turned on him. It’s understandable that he’s concerned.”  

She holds her tongue, frowning as she stares at his desk. “What about Cordelia, have they found her yet?”

“No, but they found the missing idol Pearl. She and Cordelia had shared a cell together at one point.”

“They’ll get her out soon, right?”

“Of course they will.” He hopes. Aleck wants to wrap an arm around his wife to ease her spirit. He doesn’t, knowing that she’ll push him away.

“You’ve always sounded so blindly hopeful. I’m not sure whether it’s real or fake.” Merise shakes her head. “But I’m going to take your word for it, Aleck. She’s your daughter—I know you’ll do right by her, even if I have my doubts.”

<You guys, I found something interesting up here.> Noralyn’s voice comes through the earpiece <This place is hardly blocked, and there’s a ton of files around here. Freydis is checking them out, my Octarian isn’t the best when it comes to the written word.>

<That’s great news.> Otis’ voice is soft. <What did you manage to find?>

<It’s nothing I couldn’t have already told you.> Freydis adds, <But I didn’t realize that we were cloning different races to sell to areas above ground, or, that the greenhouse was a slave incubation centre. Regardless, it’s signed off by …Alteus? I thought he jumped ship as soon as he got married?>

Alteus wasn’t a familiar name, not even to the Agents who were listening. <General, is Alteus a familiar name to you?>

<I’m not at liberties to say if I know the man or not …but no, I can’t say I know much about the man. As you see, there’s a lot of activity that runs around that I’m not sure about. I, unfortunately, can’t say I’m liable for every single thing that I stumble across.>

<Fair point.> Otis mumbles. <Freydis, what do the other papers say?>

<Well, something about a near shortage of Inklings—which would explain Pearl’s capture. Although, from the diagrams here I should say that they were attempting to clone her.>

<Yes, we knew about some cloning efforts, but this is brand new to us. Good to know, and perfect to use to force our government in our favour.> There’s a note of satisfaction to Otis’ voice. It made sense, he was an Octoling in an Inkling’s world. With any luck, that would be a saying left back in the past.

<Is there any order forms nearby?> Aleck asks.

<Yes, I have some here, citing different locations above ground. But, if I’m to help, I expect that my family will be taken care of. Since the General’s word might not mean anything down here anymore, I want immunity for my family if I’m to give this up.>

<Of course, anything you need. I’ll do my best to help your family.> Aleck replies.  

<Please see that you do—Mel, what’s wrong?> Freydis reports her husband is still with fright. 

<There’s a woman with a fancy green short dress approaching—she’s holding a P-90.>

<P-90?> Freydis asks, confused.

<It’s another name for the Hero Shot—in it’s upgraded form.> Noralyn informs the Elite.  

Both Noralyn and Freydis freeze—their voices dropping as soon as the intruder is revealed. 

<I don’t know how to say this—but I think we found Cordelia.> Noralyn whispers.

Aleck’s heart pounds against his chest. “Merise, they found her.”

“Oh my god!” Merise catches herself on the desk, losing her composure. He can see her tears of relief streaming down her face, smudging her makeup. “How is she, is she okay?”

<Where is she, can I speak to her?> Aleck pleads.

<I-I don’t think she can.> Freydis’ tone scares the older Inkling man. <She’s got her weapon pointed right at us—I think she’s brainwashed.>

<Oh god no!> Fitz’s distress makes Aleck’s stomach churn in worry. <That’s terrible news. Stay away from her, do  _not_  engage in battle. They used a serum that warps the mind of its victims—she  _will_  kill you.>

<Oh my god.> Aleck temporarily removes the earpiece, Merise’s panic evident. Aleck rubs his hands over his face, tears lacing his eyes.

_“Aleck, tell me what’s wrong!”_

“The Octarians got to her—she’s working for them—she might kill every single one of those kids we sent down there.”

Merise’s jaw hangs open, her lip quivering before she lets out a wail. “No, not Cordelia. Please, tell me this isn't true." 

“She doesn’t have a choice—the Elites have her in their control.” Aleck doesn’t care about the fight, he circles Merise with both hands, holding onto her in sheer terror. She grips onto him, burying her head into his chest.

“Aleck, what do we do!?”

He blinks, a warm strand of tears frames his cheeks.

“We pray.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big shoutout to Wynter for drawing this wonderful amazing Fitz piece of art. I'm still in awe over how good it is!!! [Check it out here, you won't want to miss this!](https://twitter.com/wynterasiuuki/status/1069076259253219328)


	48. Chapter 48

Radjerd can’t breathe. His nerves spike—he couldn’t believe what he had heard through the earpiece. Cordelia’s alive—she escaped! Yet, deep anxiety builds within his stomach. She was armed, and on a mission to kill. He couldn’t believe it—he wouldn’t believe it. He refused to acknowledge that the Octarians had gotten to her—that they manipulated her in this way. He doesn’t allow his imagination to go nuts—after all, Pearl’s still in his grasp. As he had learned before, a stable mind would be more effective than if he followed his impulses. He couldn’t allow himself to lose control—he refuses to be a distraction for those around him.  

<Hey man, we’re going to get through this, okay?> Pearl pats him on the back. <We have the best team in our squad—once Cordelia sees you, she’ll drop the act and be back in your arms before you know it—you’ll see!>

Radjerd nods, attempting to calm himself down. Pearl’s right—some of the best agents were on his side.  

<Don’t shake so much. This isn’t anything the Agents haven’t had before. We can bring Cordelia back home. You know those agents are capable of anything they put their minds to.> That was easy for Pearl to say, but there was no sense arguing with her, she was only trying to help him stay calm.

<We might have some trouble up ahead. Downstairs was just dumb luck; here, I need to be vigilant. I’ll have to put you down. Please make sure to stay around me, alright?> Radjerd tells the frosted tip Inkling. She nods. He eases her to her feet, soon taking the lead with his N-Zap positioned forward. The elevator door was about to open, and alongside it, a target was waiting. A tall, husky looking man with amber eyes lingers near the hallway, his eyes full of fury. 

<I’ve successfully made my way to the elevator—the drones are piling in. My guess is that their production facility is below, but it’s too crowded to venture—I hear the chaos upstairs, I’m following behind.> Agent 3’s voice speaks in a hurry. Fantastic timing!  

<Make sure that you do—there’s this dude who’s giving me the evil eye. I don’t think he’s clued in that I’m the enemy just yet, but I have no doubt it’ll take much longer for him to realize I’m not on their side.>

<I’m on my way—keep him busy then I’ll take over. If what they’re saying about Cordelia is true, we’ll have to take her out.>

Radjerd keeps his aiming arm steady. He fires a warning shot, keeping the attacker at bay. He seems relatively unbothered by his attempts, barreling through his inkshots—he’s determined to take Radjerd out.

<He’s charging through the fire!>

<Use your Ink Armour—you’ll make yourself invincible at least until I arrive.>

<Right.> Radjerd forgot about the weapon’s special. He positions himself, following the Agent’s advice, a film of green ink covers his entire frame. He swims around the enemy, delivering a shot to large man’s back. It doesn’t seem to do much—only making the man irritated. His lack of firepower is noticeable when Radjerd glances at his back—he had no ink tank. Was he only used for muscle?>

<You’re that retched husband of hers, aren’t you?> The man seethes. <The Elites told me about your arrival—they said I could eliminate you—that Cordelia would be my prize—even if she’s a traitor.>

Radjerd’s calm temper dissolves within minutes. <Like hell she’ll be.> He growls under his breath.

<She’ll have no feelings left for you—not after what they did to her.> His white grin only eggs the Octoling further in his pursuit. <All your happy memories with her will be toast, and she’ll think the worst of you. She is a lowly bitch of a woman, leading me on the way she did.> He lunges forward, attempting to catch the Octoling in his grasp. Radjerd rolls out of the way, attempting to push past him. It doesn’t take him long to realize that the taller man is only a distraction. His main goal was to use crippling force, which Radjerd was fast enough to avoid. It boosts his confidence to see that he wasn’t rusty. Pearl yells for him to watch out, as Branton’s arm swings into Radjerd’s shoulder, knocking him into the tiled floor. That hurt—a lot!

<The General was right in assuming you irresponsible. You’re not even strong enough to come after me yourself. If you can’t even take me down, how are you supposed to save your own wife?> His tone deliciously mocks the Octoling, his teeth grit in response. <It took you quite a long time to get here, did you forget about her, or did you abandon her because of the baby?>

Was this Octoling under some kind of manipulation spell, or was he trying to get a rise out of him?  _And what baby?_  Radjerd didn’t have time for tricks. < _What_  baby?> Radjerd’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.  

<You don’t know?> He stops, his anger briefly subsiding. <Hmm, doesn’t matter now. What those Octolings did to her—it’ll probably not survive.> His stare grows intense. <Neither will you.>

Radjerd pushes by Branton, rushing down the hall. His mind goes numb, not realizing that the earpiece had gone silent. He can’t breathe, his heart leaping against his chest. It was fear—anger—devastation, rolled into one. His legs on autopilot, he had only one objective—to find Cordelia.  

<Radjerd!> Pearl’s voice calls him back to reality. Agent 3’s backup finally came, but Radjerd didn’t have time to go back for her. The Agent would take good care of the Inkling—he had to get to Cordelia.

***

 “We have to do something—we can’t leave Cordelia down there.” Merise whispers through her tears. “I’ll never forgive myself if I just sit here doing jack all."

Aleck states at the earpiece, his wife still clings to him. She had stopped crying, the tear-stained spots on his dress shirt barely visible.

“I’ve never been so terrified in all of my life—I always thought Cordelia would be her own undoing, but like this …it’s not fair.  _God, it’s simply not fair Aleck!”_  She pleads.

“I know. We steered her poorly, we’re partially to blame for all of this. I for how I treated our son, and…”

“You don’t need to censor yourself, I know I’m to blame as well. I feel so foolish—I’d take it all back if it meant that Cordelia would turn out alright!” Merise speaks between breaths. “If I could trade places with her, I would.”  

Aleck bites his cheeks as he reaches for the earpiece, sticking it back into his ear. Otis is communicating with Fitz, he had left the grounds of the Firthe Manor—a new Agent, known as Agent Eight had picked him up, they were on way to the Deepsea Metro.  He could hear struggles on both Radjerd and Freydis’ mics, then—silence.

Aleck sharply inhales. <Otis, what just happened?>

<We’ve been cut off. We’re trying to get online as soon as we can.>

Aleck freezes.

<I know how stressful this is, but before you freak out, I need you to listen to me. My wife is down there—putting her best foot forward. I can’t reach her—and right now, I’m terrified. I need you to be brave and trust that they won’t put Cordelia’s life in danger. They are all skilled fighters—remember that.> It’s unspoken, but it appears Otis is worried about what Cordelia might do to them. It was a fair assumption.

<You’re right.> He wasn’t going to put Otis in a challenging position. He had to remain strong as Merise had for so long. He would prove to his wife that he had what it took to be level-headed and brave.

<Dammit, they must have severed the connection—they knew we were tracking them.> Fitz hisses under his breath. <I knew it was a bad idea to page through myself but I did it anyway—I’m an idiot.>

Aleck’s at the razor’s edge. The only thing keeping the older Inkling intact was that the Agents could contact them. Without that reassurance, his thoughts spiralled out of control. But, Merise’s didn’t have to.

“Merise, I need a favour.” Aleck knew his wife felt much better when she had a task to complete. “Would you like to go down to headquarters?”

<Are you sure you want to send Merise here?> Otis questions.

<I am.> Aleck replies quickly. <My wife doesn’t operate well on an idle mind.>

“Excuse me?” Merise crosses her arms. “Why the secrecy?”

“Sorry, I had to clarify to Otis—I supposed I could have spoken Inklish but—"

“Aleck, what’s the matter.”

“Would you feel better if you were at Headquarters?”

Merise is offended by his question. “Do you want to send me away?”

“No, not at all! You could help the team get back online—you were always so good at delegating tasks.”

She closes her eyes, contemplating her husband’s suggestion. “You couldn’t come with me—you’re under house arrest.”

“I know.” Which, if it weren’t for his second in command, they wouldn’t have a business to come back to. Firthe’s Ink&Tanks was standing vigilantly since his absence, and he had Fregor to thank for it. His direction kept PR clean and unsuspecting of Aleck and Cordelia’s absence. Once Aleck returned to his position, he would raise his salary. He deserved every ounce of praise. However, he doesn’t know long that will be, given his current situation. How long were the Agents going to keep him locked up for? But now wasn’t the time to consider his own position.

“I’ll be fine in my study—all of my comforts are here.” He weakly grins. “You know that I’m a man of simple tastes.”  

“No, you’re not.” She rolls her eyes—a brief grin flashes across her lips.

Aleck smiles, patting his wife’s hand. “I know you’re not one for sitting around and twiddling your thumbs—you’ll feel much better at Headquarters. Glen will take you straight there, and I’ll feel relieved knowing you’re at the helm. Your brilliance shouldn’t be wasted.”

“If you’re sure.” Merise exhales slowly. “I’ll gather my things and freshen up. One must be orderly if they’re to get things done.” Her fingers trail to the door handle, showcasing her hesitation.  

“That’s my girl.” He smiles weakly.

<Dammit, Eight! Keep your bloody eyes on the road.> A sharp toned Fitz yells through the earpiece.

<Maybe I could if you’d stop your nagging.> The Agent mumbles. <I was assured you’d cooperate with us—are you putting on a show on purpose? I thought you’d be kinder to me knowing I wasn’t an Inkling.>

<An Octoling who works for the state? Don’t make me laugh. The only reason I’m cooperating with you is that you’re going to help me get my son back. Now keep your eyes on the road!>

<Give me a break, I just got my license.>

<Oh yes,  _that_  assures me.>

<The two of you are worse than my son.> Otis grumbles under his breath. <We’re playing for the same team here—now both of you, get your act together. General, you know more than most that a calm mind is most effective in battle. As for you, Eight, have some respect. He is not to be trifled with, and in no way needs your sass. Understand?>

<…Fine. You have a point.>

<How far are you away from the Deepsea Metro?> Aleck asks, hiding the fact he found the conversation amusing. It was a much-needed reprieve, given how he currently felt.

<It should be about a couple more minutes before we reach our destination.>

Aleck rubs his hands together—how did it feel that time itself had slowed? The uncertainty is getting to him. He attempts to ignore the nostalgia influenced memories that surface—he didn’t’ need any more reminders that he had failed his baby girl. For a brief moment, Aleck puts his earpiece on standby, the man easing into his chair. Alone, he could let out his frustration—with himself—and where his decisions lead him. He eases his head into the crook of his arm, allowing warm tears to fall. He didn’t need to save face for his wife. He slams his fist onto his desk. Even with all the wealth at his fingertips, he couldn’t save anyone.

This was all his fault.

***

<Cordelia!>

Radjerd flings himself into the fray, the office-like room decked with green and murky yellow ink. Noralyn, Freydis and Melbourne stare at him in confusion. Her torn dress—what she wore on the day of their wedding, her steel blue eyes—the pained grimace of her lips. All his defences are lost—and for a moment, so are hers. 

<What took you so long?> Freydis speaks gruffly. <Our headsets are dead—whatever they’re doing, the Octarians cut us off from the Agents entirely.>

<I was held up—but put your weapons down. You can’t attack her.> He can barely speak, his mind racing with thoughts of panic.

<She’s armed.> Noralyn speaks in a hurry. <We have no intentions of hurting her, but to leave ourselves defenceless is moronic. Her ink is toxic, it  _will_  hurt us.>

Melbourne nods in agreement.

He understands the logistics, he really does. But to him it’s not about that—he needs Cordelia to be safe. If what Branton said was true—God, he can’t even comprehend the man’s words. Radjerd flinches when Cordelia quickly aims her weapon at him, her smile growing. She keeps her Hero Shot positioned in front of her as she steps toward him. Freydis and Noralyn move closer, both ready to fight should they need to.

<I’ve been waiting for you,  _Octoling_. > The way her voice drips at the mention of him—chills erupt through his being. <You took your sweet time getting here—I almost thought you wouldn’t come.> Her singsong voice disturbs him.

<That wasn’t our choice, we had to get clearance.>

<They already told me that!> She growls, strictly pointing to Noralyn and Melbourne. <They’re too scared to face me—pointing that nasty charger at me.> Cordelia turns to stare at Freydis. <At least  _she_  has the gall to step up.>

<I suppose that’s true.> Freydis smirks, confidently stepping next to Radjerd. <I still have enough energy to take you down, so count your blessings.>

<If you want it to be that way,  _fine_. > Cordelia readies her weapon, releasing fire on Freydis, who swiftly dodges out of her fire. His loyalties are divided—but he chooses his friend in the final second.

<Cordelia, don’t!> Radjerd flings his harm out, shielding Freydis. <You spared her before, you can spare her again.>

<Thanks for the lack of confidence.> Freydis mutters under her breath.

<If you’re going to stand there and be an easy target, that’s up to you—but I don’t see why you would. You wouldn’t even risk it all to save me, so don’t bother with that bitch.> Cordelia seethes, looking up the Elite up and down. A flash of disgust hits her eyes.

<Whatever you thought Cordelia was before, she’s not.> Melbourne shouts before Cordelia shifts her attention on him. <Be careful.>

<Listen to your friend there,  _Octoling_. Just because I’m standing up for myself makes me a threat, who knew? > She smiles, shrugging her shoulders.

<We can’t let her unleash her splashdown—if she does, we’re fucked.> Noralyn curses. <In this space, it’ll trap us. We’ll have to knock that weapon of hers from her bare hands.>

<Shut up.> Cordelia seethes. <I’m sick of you all thinking there’s something wrong with me. I’ve finally been liberated from my shitty life!>

Radjerd clenches his free hand. He had to try to get through to her. <That’s not true—I used to think the same thing until I met you—yeah I thought you were some weak Agent at first, but that’s changed. I didn’t think Inklings were worth anything—until you stepped up and helped me infiltrate the Research Facility. Then, your family took me in. One of the most powerful families of Inkopolis—imagine that—taking a ruffian like me into their home. Accepting me, no matter my race. Just like you did.> He lightly smiles, as his eyes moisten. He couldn’t believe that made Cordelia stand in her tracks.

<Why didn’t you come save me yourself—you coward!> She growls under her breath, her eyes laced with tears. <I was scared, no matter how much I tried to deny it. Left here to the devices of this horrid place—who knows  _what_  they could have done to me. But you’re just like my poor excuse for a mother and father—selfish conniving assholes who sacrifice others at the expense of their desires. I never had a choice—I had to spend my entire life listening to others—having my choices constantly taken away from me. Do you know how that feels! No, you fucking don’t—you just took what you wanted, manipulating me to better serve your needs. I don’t even know how I fell for you so fast—but I was scared stiff. I hate you so much for manipulating me, for warping my brain—for giving me a child that never had a chance!> She vibrates with anger as she inches closer, her teeth clenched together. <You will pay for your wrongdoings,  _Octoling. >_

Noralyn’s mouth hangs open, as Freydis’ eyebrows contort in confusion.

<Cordelia, please. If you surrender, we can help you.> Noralyn inches forward, leaning her charger on the wall. <I can see that you still want to do the right thing—even if you’re confused. Surrender and we can take you back to the agents, they can get you treated. We can still save your baby.>

Freydis’ sea blue eyes leave her in panic. She looked just how Radjerd felt—both kept a close eye on Cordelia’s actions as Freydis moves forward with delicacy. <Don’t do anything stupid, alright?> She places her dualies in their holsters. <It’s like Noralyn said—we can still turn this around. If not for Radjerd, for your child. Both Noralyn and I know how you’re feeling.>

<No you don’t!>  Her hands shake, the Hero Shot trembling in her grasp. <If you wanted to help me, you could have done it weeks ago, but you chose to play it safe! For your own benefit!> Her finger hovers over the trigger, Freydis not batting an eye. Radjerd knew if he said anything, it might result in Freydis getting hurt. Helplessness overwhelms him.

<Cordelia, there’s no need for this. Drop your weapon, and we can get that nasty stuff out of your system. The sooner you let us help you, the healthier you will be.> Freydis gently creeps forward, keeping her hands spread out beneath her waist. <The Octarians want you to fight against your own people for their personal gain—there’s no freedom in that. You have to fight for what you believe in, sweetie—and I know this isn’t it. It’ll be hard to focus, but if anyone can push through this mental gunk, it’s you.> Her sea blue eyes soften. Freydis cups her hand over Cordelia’s, lowering her weapon.

<N-No. You’re not going to screw with me.> Cordelia barely whispers, her body shaking. She refuses to let go of her weapon. <I’m tired of people screwing me—not letting me live my own life without abandoning me. I’m not going to be manipulated by you, Freydis—or anyone here!>

<Freydis, move back!> Melbourne hurries to her side, but it’s too late—Freydis’ piercing scream lands her on the floor, rolling in pain. Cordelia had singed her thigh—Radjerd could see the acid burn through to her skin.

Melbourne draws his weapon, firing at Cordelia. Radjerd’s loyalties are tied. He doesn’t know what move to make—but he knows that Freydis was now defenceless.

<Cordelia, stop!> He begs, uncomfortable with the fact that he might have to fight her. Her buttermilk tips were glowing, she backs up with ease and care. If she released her splashdown, they’d all suffer for it. <Don’t do this! You’re not their puppet, you’re my wife!>

<I’m no one’s puppet, and am certainly not  _your wife_! > She spits. <You all will pay for your treachery.>

Radjerd curses, his ink armour was out. There was nothing he could do. He helplessly watches as Cordelia raises herself in the air, spreading the corrosive ink. He flinches, expecting to be doused in the acidic fluid, but the howling beam of green tears through the wall, protecting him from her splashdown.

Agent 3 had come just in the nick of time. As for his friends… He could see Melbourne’s unconscious frame overtop Freydis, slumped over like a meat shield. Noralyn was out, her body against the wall. The pain must have been too much. They wouldn’t be dead, but that meant it was just him and Agent 3 in this fight—something had to be done.

<It took forever to take that tank down.> Agent 3 pauses. <Ok, we’ll talk later. I’ll douse her with my ink, you build up your ink armour. We’ll keep her stunned for now, so she can’t unleash an attack like that again.

His ears pulse, his throat dry. He  _had_  to do something. Cordelia’s dangerous. He had to let Agent 3 attack.

Radjerd covers the walls with green ink as Agent 3 keeps his distance, aiming at Cordelia. He took her agro, she wasn’t even focused on Radjerd, giving him enough time to unleash his special.  

<If I can unleash another stingray, we can win this.>

<No!> Radjerd calls out. <No stingrays—we can’t hurt her.>

<We have no choice! If she takes us out too, we’ll have no risk in saving her. We have to make the hard choice.>

Radjerd grits his teeth so hard, his gums begin to hurt. He ducks as Cordelia lets out her splat bombs, Agent 3 hisses in pain. He drops his Splatling, the metallic sound vibrates throughout the room. <I’ll be fine, keep focused!>

Radjerd shakily aims his N-Zap at Cordelia. To his surprise, Cordelia doesn’t move. He has to try one last time. 

<We can give us a serious go—for real this time. Your parents have changed—they regret how they treated you. Your mom fought so hard to get us down here, and your dad is a changed man—he’s even got the General on our side! If he’s working with us—you know things are out of control.> He pleads,  < _You’re not an Octarian Soldier, you’re my wife! >_

<I am  _not_  your wife!> Her voice sounds distorted—how was that possible. Oh  _god!_  The Ink she was using had started to surface, the tips of her fingers were red and agitated. No—the Ink was corroding her bloodstream!

<Cordelia, this will kill you!>

<No, I will have my revenge—I will  _destroy you, Octoling! >_

Radjerd throws his weapon to the side, all fears gone. He grimaces when the residue acid ink hits him, but he whacks the weapon out of her hands. She struggles against his grip, screeching in frustration. He refuses to let go, his arms held her in place.

At this rate, she may only have minutes to live.

***

Aleck paces around his study, nervously chewing at his fingertips. Merise was near her destination, and from the sounds of things, so were Fitz and Eight.

 <We’re in.>

Aleck listens intently, focusing his attention solely on Fitz.

<My place is the gated area—the big house near the back.>

Aleck is tempted to beg Fitz to break into the facility to rescue Cordelia, but as a father himself, he knows that Fitz needs to focus on rescuing his son. Listening in, it’s clear that Fitz got past security without much trouble. Was the rebellion tied to the facility only? It must have been if Fitz didn’t get pestered. They make it through the gate, approaching the parking lot of the base—Fitz hops in the front seat with Agent 8 alongside him. Five minutes pass before either Fitz or Eight speak.

Aleck hears a clearance beep—there must have been a gate blocking the residential area.  They pull through, reporting that they made it to the house. Aleck hears a woman’s voice—he assumes it’s Fitz’s caregiver—as the two converse. She’s packing up—understanding that it’s no longer safe here. Fitz heads upstairs, not taking him long to reach his sleeping child.

<Denton, time to get up.> He hears the emotion in Fitz’s voice. <We have to go now.>

<B-But why?> His innocent tone picks up in the mic—hitting Aleck in the gut. The poor boy, he’s lost his mother, and now, he was going to lose his home.

<It’s no longer safe for us here.>

<But we can’t leave Banton.>

<Branton.> He softly corrects his son. <Branton’s just busy at the moment. We’ll see him soon.>

<Okay.> He says with a sleepy tone to his voice.

<We might be able to come back someday, but for now, it’s not safe. Go grab Mommy, and we’ll go. We’re going to visit Auntie’s family.>

An excitable gasp comes from the toddler. Aleck can hear the pitter patter of the little guy’s feet. He can hear Fitz fall silent briefly. He must be taking in the sights of his home.

<You will start that Serilda Foundation as soon as possible.> Fitz’s tone commands.

<I will, Fitz. If I fail you, you can behead me yourself.>

<Alright. Then one day we can return.> He sighs in relief. <Denton, time to go. Ash, I assume that you know this, but you’re relieved of your duties.>

<Understood. I know it’s not safe for you here anymore—make sure to protect Denton, alright? He’s a lovely boy.>  

<You’ve served me well.> Fitz’s voice remains soft.

<Take care little man.> The woman’s voice breaks with emotion.

<We’re visiting family!> The boy replies, seemingly ignorant of the situation at hand. Good.

<Of course.> She responds.

<You may take anything in the house that may help.>

<Thank you, General.>

Aleck hears the door shut, the kid immediately starts asking questions a mile a minute, just like he used to as a child. He had definitely inherited Fitz’s curiosity.

<Now we’re going to the facility. Cordelia’s been injected by the Heron Serum, from her behavioural pattern. I’ll go in myself—seeing my face might calm most of the rioters down. If they think I abandoned the place, my presence will be more than welcome.>

<What about your son?> Aleck asks.

<Eight, I need you to do the most important task of your life. Watch my son—and protect him with your life.>

<Can do. Although I don’t know much about kids, to be honest with you.> Aleck hears a chuckle.

<Denton, if this man does anything stupid, steal his earpiece and talk to me right away.>

<Yup!>

<Good. Now Eight, take the helm. I need you to drop me off near the Facility, then drive near the gate. The guards won’t hurt Denton—they love him, and are loyal to me as you’ve seen.>

<If you’re sure.>

 

<Here is good.> Aleck hears Fitz speaking softly to his son, placing him in the care of Eight, and to behave himself. It doesn’t take long for the General to threaten Eight, but that was expected. This was the hot-tempered Fitz after all.

<Alright, I’m entering the parameters. We might lose contact—so know I’m going to do everything in my power to quell the rebellion and get Cordelia out safe.>

<Thank you, Fitz.> Aleck takes a deep breath before speaking his son’s praise. <I’ll never be able to repay you.>

<You can. Name Denton as a Firthe.> Fitz turns off the earpiece.

Aleck wouldn’t back down on his promise. He would do whatever it takes to gain Fitz’s trust.

Aleck would not lose it a second time.

***

Radjerd cradles the weakened Cordelia in his grasp—he remembers her smell. A soft, indistinguishable scent—the smell of the one he’s finally reunited with. There had been tubing circling the back of her neck, which he had haphazardly ripped out of her. It bled that nasty coloured ink—they were pumping that shit into her.

It was too much for her body to handle. She was losing consciousness by the second. Her body could only take so much corrosion, but it seemed to be lessening the irritation bubbling through her skin. Her speech was delirious, as expected from someone injected with poison. He just hopes he wasn’t too late in removing the gear, and the tubing.

Pearl, alongside Agent 3 had tended to the others and were both now securing the premises to ensure no intruders would blow through. Radjerd had never been so thankful to an Agent in all of his life. He moved his head to check on the others, but they were still weak, barely able to stand. He would have done more for them, but Cordelia is his priority. They were reunited at last.

<That splashdown could have killed you.> Radjerd softly speaks, rubbing her forehead. He remains brave-faced, refusing to let a tear shed down his face. She’s going to be just fine. He closes his eyes to combat the water that begged to be released.  _She’s going to be fine._

<You’re a bastard.> She weakly states. <I feel all mixed up—I feel so warm when you’re holding me. Like I’ve missed it.> A weak smile, then, <Okay, maybe you aren’t the bastard I thought you were.>

<I’m glad to hear it.> He rubs her head. But Cordelia moves it as if she’s searching for something. She’s quiet, yet tears stream down her face. He doesn’t realize why until her hand lingers over her midsection.

<I never thought I wanted a kid—especially after what my parents were like. But I’m no better.> Her tone is weak but laced with bitterness. <I didn’t even have a choice.>

<You’re my priority—nothing else matters.> Radjerd whispers—baby or not, Cordelia matters first—even though the thought of losing a child he never got to meet—no, he can’t… He had to push that out of his mind,  _now._   

<I know you,  _Octoling._  I… didn’t mean for you to find out like this.> Each word she spoke, she started to sound like the regular Cordelia he knew and cared for.

Radjerd grits his teeth together as warm streaks line his cheeks. He can’t speak, his throat swollen with emotion. He rests his hand over Cordelia’s, squeezing it gently.

There’s nothing more he can say.


	49. Chapter 49

Aleck can’t believe it.

He’s at Headquarters.

He’s beaten all odds—thanks to his talented wife. She spoke to the officials, and, they agreed to let Aleck see his daughter—on the premise that he return home soon after. Aleck’s escorted to the infirmary by Merise, the décor blended between a laboratory and a country styled decor. Only a day had passed since the extraction, but it felt like weeks. He had to see Cordelia—they had no idea how she would fare against the toxic ink. It could have been his daughter’s final day—but thanks to the geniuses at work—it wasn’t. He wasn’t up to terms with the medical jargon that Otis used—it didn’t matter.

She’s alive.

Now, the nerves come barrelling in. Merise raises a silver brow, her lips barely separate.

Aleck has to calm down—he’s visibly shaking. He’s lost gallons of sweat, and the tips of his nails from nerves. She could blame him—and rightfully so—what had happened to her. He had failed both of his children.

“Cordelia’s going to make it—there’s no need to worry.”

“I know. _I know._ ” He says, his throat dry.

“Her Octoling never left her side—not even once. I have no idea how he managed to sleep in that chair—it looked rather stiff.”

 “Radjerd loves our daughter—there’s no way I can pay him back for what he’s done—for what they all have done.”

“You’re rambling. There’s no need to be nervous, Cordelia’s excited to see you.”

Aleck didn’t deserve her love—not after his foolishness. He slips his hands in his cream coloured slacks, minding his white dress shirt. He feels the damp fabric against his chest—that’s all he needed …to look like a drowned rat, covered in his own sweat!

“I don’t know—Fitz would have told her everything—about what we planned to do. I don’t know if she will be able to forgive me—ever.”

“Don’t be like that.”

Aleck tugs on his collar, allowing himself to cool down. Merise calmly pats his hand, leaving him along the hallway.

“That doesn’t matter now—she’ll be happy to see her father. You have a way with her that I never will.” She barely whispers, Aleck hears the pain in her words.

“Merise.”

“I understand that she—well—you know what she can be like. Stubborn as all hell—she refuses to tell me anything. I thought she would at least share with me—no, that’s incredibly unfair. I’m doing it again, Aleck.” She holds her arms close to her chest.

“Tell her the truth. Tell her how you feel—what you regret. Cordelia will forgive you.”

“Aleck, I don’t know if anything I could say would make up for how I acted. I was horrible to her.”

“It’s okay—we both have our regrets, but our daughter will understand. We can try again—as a family.” Merise knows exactly what he means by that statement, and, Aleck was ready.

Merise narrows her green eyes. “Maybe I was hasty about our separation—but know this, Aleck. No more secrets—ever.” Her shoulders seize, her emerald eyes bore into his steel blue ones.

“You won’t regret this, I promise.” Aleck grabs her hand, wrapping her into a hug. She doesn’t pull away, easing her chin onto his shoulder.

“I hope not.” She replies, relaxing into his embrace. “We have to be better parents, even if it’s too late.”

He rocks her gently. “It never is, dear. We will do right by her this time.”

With Merise’s hand in his, they approach the elevator. He guides his wife in first, letting her press the floor number. He’s thrown off by the pull of the mechanism, thrusting him upward towards their destination. The doors open to a small, yet quaint waiting room, where he sees Fitz, and the little Octoling child colouring haphazardly into a book. Fitz’s smile is relaxed, his eyes alight with pride for his son. Aleck could relate—Fitz had grown so much in so little time—where had the time gone? The child sees him first, his toothy grin grows tenfold as he drops his crayon on the table.

<Denton, don’t run!> Fitz hops to his feet, attempting to grab the boy before he scurried off. His lips tighten when his green eyes behold his father.

<I’m surprised they let you out, considering you’re under house arrest.> Fitz speaks coldly.  

“I’ll check in with Noralyn, we’ll meet with Cordelia after you catch up.” Merise senses the hostility—not that Aleck’s surprised. His attention then focuses on the tyke—who lovingly stares up at him.

<You look like daddy.> He grins, patting Aleck’s leg.

<That’s because I’m his daddy.> Aleck points to Fitz as kneels to the boy’s level.

<But…but I look nothing like Daddy.> He sulks..

<That doesn’t matter. Genetics mean nothing if there’s no love involved.> He pats the boy’s hair, noting the jet black colour. Now that Aleck studies the boy, he notes the tanned skin and dark brown eyes. He can’t put his finger on it, but there’s a likeness to Radjerd that he can’t explain. <Now behave for your Daddy, alright? He’s got a lot on his plate right now.>

<Okay.> The boy hurries back to his colouring book.

The air is thick with tension, Fitz staring at his son.

<He likes you.> Fitz’s lips barely move.  <Denton likes Cordelia too. He hasn’t warmed up to any other woman except his Nanny. She’s stubborn, yet strong. She would have made an excellent mother figure.>

<is that why you wanted Cordelia to live with you?>

<Mostly—or, at least that’s what I told myself. It turns out I liked the idea of having a sister.> A small grin appears, yet falls just as fast. <But now that _he’s_ back, he won’t let me two feet near her. >

<Fitz, I’m sure you can understand why.> Aleck doesn’t need to elaborate.

<That was different—it was a matter of helping the greater good. I needed your weapons.>

<You can’t justify her kidnapping, no matter the cause. She could have died—she would have if it weren’t for Radjerd and the strike team.>

<I know that.> He says bitterly.

<Listen, Radjerd is a good man. He’s family.>

<It’s nice to see that you treat a man who you’ve known for little time to be family more than your own flesh and blood.> Fitz eases back in his chair. <Look, I’m not going to bite your head off over it. I’m making a point—it means Denton should fit right in.>

<He will.> Aleck’s palms clam up as he asks, <How long do you need Denton to stay with me?>

<To my own surprise, they’re not going to arrest me. I proved loyalty to the Agents by taking down Elite Verda and regaining control of the Testing Facility. I have to hand it to Otis, he has great tactical precision. He would have made a great General.> Fitz smiles weakly. <I’m amazed we were able to get everyone out in one piece.>

<Me too.> Aleck’s quickening heartbeat was the same as when the Agents reconnected with the rescue team. Agents 1 and 2 were surveying the border—and Agent 3 and 8 would join them as soon as the green haired Agent recovered. As for Marina and Pearl, he heard that the two were due for a long, _long_ vacation—well—when Pearl was done recovering.

<You know, Melody would be proud of you.> Aleck says, remembering his first love fondly. They didn’t speak of her much, her passing had laboured both their hearts.   

<Her name is Emelda— _not_ the name you Inklings gave her.> Fitz’s teeth clench, his green eyes sharp with emotion.

<You don’t understand, _Melody_ is the name she chose for herself. You knew she loved to sing—she would have loved to see Marina perform. If things were different back then, she might have become an idol. > They could have become a proper family—the family Fitz deserved.

<Which is why we have to make sure things are different—for Denton. I made a promise to Serilda—and I intend to keep it.>

<Serilda?> Both men follow the familiar voice—Aleck’s spirit raises when he sees the man who stands before him—It’s Radjerd. <I…haven’t heard that name in years.> The man’s eyes look over to the kid who’s still idly colouring.   

Fitz studies Radjerd quietly, then, a dark expression clouds his face. <How do you know of Serilda?>

<I could ask you the same question.> Radjerd folds his arms intently. <But if you _must_ know, she’s my sister— _older_ sister. We weren’t that close. >

Fitz ducks his head, recomposing himself. <She would have been thirty-two this year.>

Radjerd rolls his eyes. <Of course, you’d know my bitch of a sister.>Then, his face drops at the realization. < _Would have been thirty-two? > _

<She passed away.>

Radjerd recoils at the news—his face morphs into disgust—shock—then disbelief.

<She said she had a brother, but never mentioned his name. We chose not to talk about our pasts.> Fitz softens towards the man. <Her son—who I adopted as my own—is over there. He’s …your nephew.>

Radjerd scratches his head in disbelief. <Serilda’s …gone?>

<Lad, if you need a minute, go take one.>

<No, I’m good.> Radjerd raises his hand.

<If it’s any consolation, she regretted how she treated you—Serilda would want me to share that.>

_< You out of all people don’t get to tell me—> _

<Lad, calm down. You don’t want to upset the boy.> Aleck places his hand on Radjerd’s shoulder. <I can only imagine the pain you feel—but you’ll only hurt the kid if you decide to raise your voice. Don’t say something you’ll regret.>

To Aleck’s relief, Radjerd listens—taking a deep breath. He ought to change the subject quickly. <How’s Cordelia?>

<She wanted me to get her some water. I should go do that.> Radjerd’s focus is, understandably, out of whack. He briskly leaves the waiting room, leaving both Fitz and Aleck to stare at each other.

<Never in a thousand years would I have thought Radjerd was her brother.> Fitz speaks quietly.

<Now that you two have something in common, you two could have a fresh start.>

<Don’t get any strange ideas.> Fitz gets defensive. <I still think he’s irresponsible and lacks discipline.>

<Learn—for Denton’s sake. You said that you wanted him to have a sense of family—Radjerd could very well be Denton’s uncle. It’d be good for your son to have that connection—so don’t mess it up for him.>

<Like you have the right to shell out parenting advice.>

 _< Fitz.> _Aleck warns, <Not in front of Denton.>

<…You’re right. I’ll put my own bias aside, for my son.> He sighs. <I was hoping to see Cordelia today, but as long as Radjerd’s around, I don’t think that’s possible.>

<It might be better if you wait. I agree that you should clear the air, but your presence might stress her out. Take your son to see Branton—you said yourself he was making a swift recovery.>

Fitz nods, now turning his focus to the boy. He softly asks Denton if he’d like to see Branton, the kid shaking his head wildly as a response. Taking his hand, Fitz makes his way to the elevator. Aleck remains seated, deliberating what he should do. What he needs, is a moment to compose himself. He wasn’t going to let his own emotions interfere with Cordelia’s recovery.

He needs to be at his best.

***

Cordelia moves her arms around, feeling the soreness of her body. Her fingers feel raw—her jaw tight with nerves. If the Octoling didn’t come in time, her body would have been pulsing with that awful liquid. She knows she should be thankful, but she feels on edge. To her great relief, the toxic serum flowing through her hadn’t harmed her baby—but she’d be required to have check-ups throughout her term. It was her first question—and the only one she cared about. Once she knew her baby was safe—she had the luxury to worry about everyone else…which she soon did.

Freydis and Noralyn—god, would they ever forgive her? She remembers _exactly_ what she did—her gut riddled with guilt. Cordelia groans, her self-pity grows with each breath. As for Pearl and Branton… _no, that was too hard._

She follows the tube on her arm to the rack, the fluid still dripping into her bloodstream. It was an antidote that eradicated the toxic ink from her body—they were surprised how fast it worked. So was Cordelia—although she was warned not to be too active. Her body needed to recover its strength.

Cordelia wished Radjerd would hurry up—she doesn’t trust herself with her thoughts. Her mother had visited briefly, but it was predictably awkward. Her mother was never good at displaying her feelings—why would a kidnapping change that? Cordelia shouldn’t be so quick to punish her mother—she wasn’t the one at fault.

The Octoling returns, his violet eyes upon her immediately. He places a cup of water by her bedside.

<Cordelia, you’re pale. Are you okay—do you need me to get someone?>  

<I’m fine—don’t bother.> She leans her head back. <I’m just antsy is all.>

The Octoling grabs her hand; she pulls it back—not that she’s repulsed by his touch—however—her hands were still raw from the ink.

<I’m sorry.> She closes her eyes; guilt overwhelms her.  

<What you said to me at the Testing Facility—I’d be blind to assume that it wasn’t true.>

Cordelia sighs, feeling the tears well up. Even though the serum was screwing with her mind, it was true—even if those feelings weren’t dominating her mind—she couldn’t deny them.

<You don’t have to explain. I’ll be patient …that is, if you want to stay married to me.>

<It’s not that I don’t—I do. But I’m not in love with you. You can’t expect me to fall for someone so quickly. Like I said before, I need time.> She bites her bottom lip.

<I know I didn’t hear you then, but Cordelia, I hear you know. I will be patient, no matter what. That’s what love is.> The Octoling closes his eyes, breathing deeply. She made him nervous.

<I don’t know if I’m …well, capable of feelings like love.> And there is was—staring her right in the face.

<Maybe not by your definition, but you married me—to protect me from the repercussions of this war. That spoke volumes to me, Cordelia. If that isn’t a sign that you love me then what is?>

He’s right. Cordelia leans her head on the pillow, her cotton dress bunching around the collar—feeling a draft along her collarbone. A breeze; god, it’s been too long since she’s felt one. She closes her eyes momentarily, breathing the fresh air. She knew what she had to ask next.

<How are Freydis, Noralyn—Pearl?>  

<They’re okay—just resting. I heard that Pearl and Marina are catching up on some alone time. Freydis is as tough as nails, nothing will stop her.> Worry laces his eyes. It would have been easy to assume it was Freydis, but she senses it’s not. It’s someone else he’s concerned with.

<What’s wrong?>

The Octoling’s silent. He shakes his head, responding, <I just got news about a family member—but I don’t want to concern you with it. You need to focus on your recovery.>

While Cordelia’s curiosity piques, she respects his privacy.

Speaking of family… <I know it’s an awkward thing to broach, but…> Cordelia breathes, her heart pumping faster than it had before. <I know that the two of us are just starting out, but… I want to keep the baby.>

His eyes widen; the shock on his face surprising. It was like he didn’t even know the baby survived—did no one tell him? That’s unnecessarily cruel! <I didn’t want to ask—just in case that it hadn’t.> Then, <Of course I want the kid—if you’re sure about it.>

<Maybe I’m out of my goddamn mind, but I am absolutely sure.>

The sorrow on the Octoling’s face dissipates; his arms twitch repeatedly—he wants to hug her, but is sensitive to her raw skin.

<A hug should be fine.>

His embrace is gentle, warm.

<The doctor still wants me to have routine checkups, to make sure that the baby’s developing normally—since I was pumped full of that awful ink.> It’s a memory she can’t wait to forget.

The Octoling’s arms remained around her. <Even if they have three arms, five legs and seven ears, I’ll still love her.>

<Well don’t get too carried away.> Cordelia sarcastically mutters, breaking out of his embrace. _< Her?>_

<Call it a hunch. I can’t picture you with a son.>

<Excuse me—I’d be fine with a boy _or_ a girl. > Cordelia frowns.

<I’m telling you—we’re having a girl.>

<There’s no way you’d know before me.> Cordelia growls, although—a girl _is_ her preferred choice. Not that the Octoling would ever find out.

A chuckle escapes his lips. <Now that’s the Cordelia I’m used to.> Wait, was he goading her on purpose? She narrows her steel blue eyes, but they widen when she sees a familiar face standing near the doorway. His aged, tired face bears a relaxed grin.

<Dad? I thought you were under house arrest?>

<Nothing could keep me from seeing you, my girl.> He walks in, the Octoling moving aside so he could wrap his arms around his daughter. <I can’t tell you how sorry I am, for everything.>

<It’s not your fault—you weren’t the one who kidnapped me.> He holds onto her, a little too long for her comfort. <You can let me go, please.>

<Right—I’m sorry.> He apologizes, focusing on the Octoling. <And you, Lad. I owe you more than you could ever know. Whatever you want, it’s yours.>

<I’ll have to think about that.> The Octoling awkwardly replies.

<Careful. He means it—I’d say ask for the company shares.>  

Aleck’s grin intensities. <Is this your way of saying that you wish to take up the mantle?> Cordelia’s about to speak, but Aleck cuts her off. <I have a feeling you’re not interested in the family business. At least, not right now. Don’t worry, I have plenty more years before I plan to retire.>

<Yeah, maybe down the road.> Cordelia has no idea how she’s going to tell her father about her pregnancy. He’d lose his mind! But, she couldn’t share the news without her mother being there.

<Cordelia, what’s wrong?>  

<Look ,Dad—well—no, it’s not something I can tell you without Mom being in the room. It’s not right.>

Aleck’s voice shakes in anticipation—there’s no way he could already know... He stands up, calling for her mother immediately.

“Aleck, there’s no need to shout!” her mother storms in, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. Her eyes soften when she sees Cordelia. “Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine.” She explains to the Octoling that she needs to address her parents in Inklish so her mother can understand. He nods, carefully rubbing her shoulder. God, she didn’t want to do this. “Mom, Dad, I don’t exactly know how to tell you this—but—” A suspicious brow raises when Aleck can barely keep his excitement, immediately hugging his daughter. “I didn’t finish—”

“For god’s sake Aleck!” Her mother mutters. “Don’t keep grabbing onto her like that—she needs some space.”

“Wait—did you two already know?”  

“It doesn’t matter how we found out, but we’re delighted with the news. Your mother and I are here to support you, however you want us to.”

Her mother smiles, looking off to the side. She was expecting a lecture on how irresponsible she was being, having a baby so young. But, to her credit—she is married, _at least._ “Isn’t that right, Merise?”

That’s when her smile disappears.

“Aleck, can you give me some time with Cordelia? Take Radjerd with you.” She waves her hand towards Aleck, as he ushers the Octoling to join him. Cordelia nods, giving him clearance to go. When her mother sits on the edge of the bed, Cordelia feels nauseous—she knew her mother wasn’t going to give her a break.

“Mom, I can explain.”

“I’m not going to lecture you, Cordelia. I understand how you feel—you’ve made a commitment, and you’re going to see it through. I admire that and respect you for it. I know, I haven’t been the most _supportive_ in the past, and I want you to know that everything you’re about to experience—I’ve gone through myself. You don’t have to go through this alone—and let me tell you this, the men won’t be much help.” She rolls her eyes. “Your father certainly wasn’t—as well-intentioned as he was.”

“I thought you regretted having me?”

“Cordelia, no, _no_ , not even for a second. I know I wasn’t the best mother—but please, know that I never regretted having you. I should have had the courage to pursue my dreams _while_ being a mother, but I didn’t think I had the strength to do both. I just made excuses for myself—it had nothing to do with you. If you can learn from my mistakes, know that you can do _both_.” 

Cordelia wasn’t expecting a response like that. In fact, she wasn’t expecting anything at all.

“Thanks.” Is all Cordelia can say.

“Now, enough about that. I want you to focus on _your_ recovery. Don’t worry about the baby—it’s stronger than you think.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am. If it’s anything like you—it will be.” Her mother’s smile is a gentle one—she never saw admiration in her eyes until this moment.

“I think I need to get moving—my legs are getting stiff.” Her mother moves aside, aiding Cordelia as she lifts herself out of bed.  The cool air hits her bare legs, but she waits for her mother to bring around the IV pole.

“Did you want me to walk around with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Cordelia nods. “I want to visit Freydis, clear the air—you know. I reckon she’ll be the angriest—considering what I did to her.”

“She knows you weren’t yourself.” Her mother reminds her. “She will understand.”

“I hope so.” There was no getting around it. Cordelia owed Freydis an apology. Granted—she owed everyone who was a part of her rescue team an apology, but Freydis was first on her list. If she had aimed any higher—god—she can’t bear to stomach the thought. “Worst case scenario, she’s still delirious and will forgive me.” A nervous laugh escapes her lips.

“I’ll be in the lobby if you need me—I’ll keep your father and Radjerd busy.”

Cordelia steps into the room, she sees two beds, one housing a recipient she wasn’t familiar with—a man with red hair and a plain, yet gentle face. The other had a wicked grin spread across her lips—Cordelia couldn’t see any injuries Freydis sported—her body underneath the blanket.  

<I know what you must think of me.> Cordelia says, her eyes dart to the floor. <I don’t even know where to begin.>

<Oh, come on sweetie, no hard feelings. Sit down.> She pats the edge of her bed. <You shouldn’t worry about a thing.>

<I could have done something terrible.>

<Now, there’s no need to worry about that, now is there? I’m fine, my kiddo is fine, and so is my husband.> Cordelia takes a moment and observes the man closely. Cordelia expected a man who was much more handsome to be the man Freydis chose as a life partner. This guy? He looked quite ordinary. <Looks aren’t everything sweetie—you must know that if you decided to marry Radjerd.> Her laugh makes Cordelia frown.

<Like you can talk—you dated him.>

<I did, but we all make mistakes.> Well, it was nice to see that Freydis was in good spirits. <You did a number to my leg—but the doc said it’ll heal soon. You got to wonder where these secret facilities hire their staff. I should see if Mel can get a job here.>

<I am so—so—so sorry for that.> Cordelia stutters. <I hope you can forgive me, really.>

<Don’t even mention it.> She looks down—appearing uncomfortable by her next question. <Did your kiddo make it out okay?>

<Yeah.> Cordelia smiles.

<It’s nice to know I won’t be doing the journey alone.> Freydis chuckles. <Nor said she’d help, but you saw how her kid turned out, right?> She winks.

<Freydis—not so loud.> She’s right. Cordelia wouldn’t know what she’d do if her kid turned into a Landon 2.0

<It’s fine. Her hubby is with her at the moment—best not to bother them. I think she’s asserting herself now that she’s got her confidence back—good for her.>

Cordelia’s relieved to hear that Noralyn wasn’t badly hurt.

<You’re hella talented with that P-whatever Nor said you had. Maybe you should be her turf partner.>

<No thanks.> Cordelia waves her hand.

<Fair. Now Rad, he’s been worried sick over you. If he becomes overbearing—which you and I know he will be—you call me. I’ll set him straight. When all this is over, I want a girl’s night—you—me—Nor. You two have to show me what’s what in Inkopolis. But not right away—her beefy man promised me he’d help out my family, give them a place to live. Which, I should have told him—I have ten sisters.>

<Are you serious!?> _Ten_ sisters?! Holy shit!

<Octolings are encouraged to produce soldiers—although I can’t say I’ll add to their numbers. I promised Mel one child—that’s it. Frankly, if it takes after my husband, I’m quite okay with that. He’s easy to herd.> She laughs again. <Although, I’m not sure where that leaves me. I’m not interested in being a stay-at-home mom. Interestingly enough, Rad talked about joining Grizzco in about a year or so—I’d like to join him. It’s a lot less demanding, and I hear it pays well.>

<He’s been talking about work?>

<I won’t say more on the matter—you and he can work out the details, although I encourage you to let him go. Rad’s never been one for twiddling his thumbs.>

<So he’s not taking my father’s offer.>

<Do you really see him as a businessman? He’s got no class!>

Cordelia couldn’t argue—but it’s what made the Octoling refreshing. She never wanted a stingy, uptight man for a partner.

<Seriously, girl—he’s devoted to you. All I ask is that you’re gentle with him.>

<I will be.>

<I’m glad, maybe you can help him heal—it’s something I could never do. Even when we were together, he held to his ideals—which cost us our relationship. I can tell he’s different now—that he will put you first. He didn’t destroy the Testing Facility, his biggest wish. That must have been challenging.>

She didn’t even think about that.

<Enough sappy talk. Hopefully, we’ll be allowed to leave soon—I’m getting bored sitting around.> Freydis leans her head on her pillow.

<They want to keep me for a couple of days just to make sure the ink’s out of my system. Then I can go home.>

<Understandable.> Freydis arches her head over Cordelia, looking at her husband. <He needs to stay longer too—so chances are, the two of you might leave at the same time—so by extension, we’ll be roommates.>

Cordelia smiles. She didn’t mind that idea—not one bit.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This moved me--I love the way evieal draws. You got to see this amazing piece of work [Check out both squid and kid Cordelia!!!](https://twitter.com/FictitiousScrib/status/1074473374779351040)
> 
> See you next week on the FINAL CHAPTER of My Lie to Keep!


	50. Chapter 50

Cordelia cocoons herself in her plush bedsheets. Of all the years she despised her bedroom, this would be the first time she’d miss it. She notices the Octoling isn’t there—he mentioned last night that her father wanted some alone time with him. She and the Octoling had agreed (by the request, or rather, plea of her parents) they would stay at the manor for a couple of days after Cordelia left the Infirmary. Everyone else had been cleared to go—except Branton—but Cordelia’s relieved he made it out alive. She could tell the Octoling wanted to stay at the manor for longer, but Cordelia was ready to leave. Her mother’s newfound dedication to Cordelia’s well being was more irksome than welcome. Maybe for normal mother and daughters, it would have been acceptable. Never had she been kissed on the forehead—until her nineteenth year of existence. Her father had excused the behaviour and encouraged Cordelia to go with it. Cordelia supposed it wasn’t so bad—but—it did seem like she was in some parallel universe.  

Speaking of her mother, she’s meeting with Callie and Marie in her study. According to what she heard, they had stopped the drones from entering Inkopolis and had put up secure barriers to ensure that they would stay put—negotiations were in place with both governments. The General, or rather, _ex_ -General planned to help her father build shelters for the Octarians in need. That’s as much as she knows.

Cordelia stares down at her phone, noticing a picture that Pearl had sent her. Pearl, the idol was reunited with her family and Marina’s too. She had an enthusiastic text, pictured with both girls on a beach somewhere, sporting the cutest frilly swimsuits. That was Pearl’s intervention—Cordelia felt Marina would have chosen something flattering to her body type. Not that it was an issue, as long as the two were happy.

With one hand, she grabs her phone, swiping left on her screen. A reminder notification blinks—Noralyn’s first turf match of the season would be in two weeks—the rainmaker was returned to Starfish Mainstage—anonymously, no doubt. She would be one of the first “comeback teams” to start off the season. She couldn’t care less for the sport itself, but seeing her friend out in the field—she’d cheer her on. Freydis spoke about being there too—but it might have conflicted with her current mission. In exchange for The Special Forces Unit for giving her _ten_ sisters (not to mention their families) housing and security, Freydis would be helping the Special Forces Unit track down Alteus _selling_ drones—but she reassured that it’d be temporary. After Freydis had her kid, she planned to apply at Grizzco. She said she missed the action and needed an active outlet for all of her energy. She reminded Cordelia that the Octoling would feel the same in time.  

Cordelia had been shocked and greatly perplexed when the Octoling had opened up about his sister Serilda, and her recent passing. While she comforted him in his time of grief, she couldn’t help but feel that the synchronicity was peculiar. Which reminds her, she’d have to address The General as her brother—which—she was starting to come to terms with. He didn’t cross her path often, but when she saw him play with Denton—her guard went down. There was something soft about the way he looked at his child—it was peaceful. Her father hadn’t hinted to Cordelia that she should forgive The General, but… maybe she should. The less anger and irritation she held in her mind, the better. But, that didn’t stop the pain that awful drug caused. Her body shakes as beads of sweat line her ears. The mere thought of the association—it transported her right to the Testing Facility. Cordelia breathes, attempting to compose herself. She didn’t know how to cope—but she’s going to try.

 

Sporting a simple sleeveless lime coloured dress with lace trailing the hem, paired with white flats, Cordelia makes her way downstairs to the sitting room. She’s tempted to turn around when she notices The General but mentally stops herself from doing it. His curious green eyes somehow intrigue her.

<I was hoping to catch you.> The General says, easing Denton off of his lap. <We hadn’t had the chance to talk, although I understand why that would be intentional.> He hinted at Cordelia keeping her distance. Smart man.  

<You have me.> Cordelia rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. She agrees to stay, but she doesn’t have to be cordial. <What is it?>

<I know I messed up, _truly_ , but I ask you anyway—>

<Spare me the plea.> That came out ruder than intended, but Cordelia doesn’t excuse herself.

The General shakes his head. <I understand if you’re not ready to talk yet.> He pauses, focusing on the small Octoling child on his lap. <All I ask is that you don’t take it out on Denton—he’s a good boy.> Cordelia’s about to interject but keeps quiet. Maybe to her, it was a no-brainer—she wouldn’t pick on a kid simply because the actions of his father were unjust. She lets the man finish, <I want to give this family thing a shot—I want to try again with Aleck. I never thought I’d say that—ever.>

<Good for you.> Cordelia says flatly—again—not her intention.

<Look. I know how I treated you, and when I lashed out that day—even then—I deeply regretted it. I assure you, Cordelia, that will never happen again.> She notes The General’s lips harden to a frown. <…Aleck suggested I get help—for my _outbursts._ I’m telling you this, so you know that I’m not full of shit.> His furrowed brows and clenched teeth infer that sharing his weaknesses is a sore spot. <Like it or not, you and I are siblings—and—I want to make this work. Even if it takes years for you to forgive me.>

<Look, I’m not interested in condemning you, if that’s what you’re on about. But don’t expect that I can forget being held against my own will—in a place where I was drugged, manipulated.> Her eyes vibrate with discomfort as she catches her breath. She stops talking, her thoughts pulling back the pain—anguish—fear that she felt in those moments. _Shit, not again…_

<Cordelia?> The man lowers his son, standing up.

<Don’t even think about it.> She raises her hand, bracing it in front of her.

<What you’re experiencing, I know it well.> Sadness laces his eyes, although she can’t see it. <Even if it’s ironic—because I put you in that situation.>

<I know you didn’t mean me harm—but your actions,> Cordelia takes a deep breath, sitting down. <They could have cost me everything. Those Octolings—they pumped that nasty stuff into me—if …Radjerd didn’t come in time, I could have died.>

<You’re right.> He lowers his head, folding his hands together.

<Why did you want me to stay?> Cordelia whispers?

<Because the doctor told me about your condition—that you’d need to be in a place that was relaxing. I realized then that bringing you to the Testing Facility was a bad idea—so I instructed Branton to bring you to my home. You would have been taken care of by my housekeeper, and both Branton and Denton would be good company. I’d be lying if I didn’t want to spare another half-breed of a mixed upbringing. I know the pain of what it feels like to not belong—either as an Inkling, or an Octoling.>

He…had a point. The General—although it was hard to think about it now—could be a great influence for her child—whatever form it took.

<I see.> Maybe by the time her baby could talk, she could forgive the man. But for now…

The General could see that he was getting nowhere. <I’m going to travel to the outskirts with Aleck, help him survey the land to build temporary housing. I feel it’s going to make a difference for many Octarians—we can vacate the troubled areas until relations with both our nations are stabilized.>

<Great.> Cordelia says, finding it hard to keep composed.

<I’m _trying!_ You know how long it’s taken me to find some kind of solution for the Octarians?! I have a real chance here! > He takes a deep breath, looking at his son. He lowers his voice. <Everything I’ve done was to protect them—even if my actions weren’t always in the right.>

<Look. I get you’re trying to help your people. Call me selfish, but your actions almost got me killed.> Cordelia turns her head. <I can’t forgive that so easily, even if I wanted to.>

<I understand.> The General’s voice lowers. <I hope you can, someday.>

Cordelia leaves the room, unable to focus. She hurries up the stairs, praying no one sees her—she needs a moment to pull herself together. Pacing quickly to her room, Cordelia leans against her closet door, allowing stray tears to fall down her cheeks. The stress and fear came back, piling on top of her. Unfortunately for her, she hears a knock on her door. Someone saw her.  

“Cordelia—dear god.” Her mother opens the door, rushing to her side. “What happened to you?”

There was no point denying it. “I was talking to The General.”

“I _knew_ it wasn’t a good idea. I should have told your father to house him somewhere different.”

“No, it’s fine. He should be here—with Denton. Dad’s doing right by him. It’s just me—the things I endured down there—I can’t forgive him now. I don’t know if I ever can.”

Her mother puts a soft hand over hers while wrapping her arm around her daughter. “You don’t have to, _ever_ , you hear me?”

It was something else to have her mother on her side—but it didn’t help the trauma.  

“But I need to. He could be a good reference point for my kid—he knows what it’s like to be a child of both races.”  

“Your kid won’t have to worry about being accepted—because no matter what—they will have a home here, with us.”

“I feel like I should forgive him, Mom, but I don’t know how. I don’t want to be scared around him. He’s my brother—Denton is even—> The Octoling’s nephew… Cordelia’s throat tightens.

Her mother scans her over with gentle eyes. “…Time. It heals all wounds.”

“That’s easier said than done.” Cordelia frowns.

“I know.” Her mother replies.  

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m leaving tomorrow with the Octoling.”

“Cordelia—please address your husband properly.” Her tone shifts back to her proper voice. “I believe he’s earned that right.”

Cordelia nods, “It’s an old habit.” Her mother had a point, she needed to start addressing him as Radjerd, for real this time. “I’ll stop calling him Octoling.”

“Now, I don’t mean to pressure you if you’re not interested, but I know that Callie and Marie want to have a couple words with you. I can tell them to leave if you’re not up for it.”

“That’s fine.” Cordelia stands up, feeling a little more at ease. “They’re in your study, right?”

“Yes. I’ll tell them you’re on your way.”

Cordelia wipes her tears, forgiving her tired face in her bathroom mirror. Why did she have to look so haggard? Whatever stress she had been under added years to her face. Cordelia splashes some water on her face, attempting to relieve the puffiness. It worked, kind of. She dabs her face with a towel before leaving her bedroom.

It doesn’t take long for Cordelia to reach her mother’s study. Two smiling faces stare back at her when she opens the door.

“Coralie—I’m so happy to see you.” The ecstatic hug she gets from the black haired Inkling is fast—she’s like a blur in real time.

“Ease off of her, alright?” Marie coaxes her cousin off of the buttermilk haired Inkling. “I’m glad to see you’ve recovered well. We had patrol duty—I’m sorry we didn’t arrive sooner.”

“It’s fine—really,” Cordelia assures Marie. “Don’t worry about it.”

“So are you married—like for real now?” Callie’s gold eyes are as wide as saucers. “I still see the wedding band on your finger.” Her singsong voice is troublesome.

“In a matter of speaking—we’re going to try the married life.” A nervous chuckle leaves Cordelia’s lips.

“Isn’t that something! Who would have thought that Marie introduced you to your _future husband!_ ”

“For god’s sake Callie...” Marie shakes her head. “Although, I have to admit. It is rather uncanny.” God, there’s that shit eating grin. She didn’t think Marie would have the gall to tease her too.

“Are you both done?” Cordelia rolls her eyes, but a smile forms on her lips. She’s thankful they’re not making a fuss over recovery—at least she could feel normal around them—even if it was _slightly_ awkward.

“Where is the big guy anyway? I haven’t seen him since we got here.” Callie looks almost disappointed. “I wanted to try out some Octarian—I was practicing.”

“She was, too. Not that I could understand it well—but maybe it’d come in handy, considering what Mrs. Firthe wants to accomplish.”

“He’s with my Dad; wouldn’t tell me why.”  

Both girls nod.

“So…I take it you’re suspending activities as Agent 4—for at least a couple of years.” Callie grins.  

“Well, maybe not _that_ long.” Cordelia feels her cheeks warm. She’d be daft not to know what Callie’s hinting at. It’s unlikely that her mother kept silent.

“At any rate—Congratulations! Just don’t expect me to babysit, I’m not really a fan of kids.”

“Don’t be rude…” Marie glowers. “Although …if you’re open to it, I’ve been told I’m a natural with babies. _If_ you need a hand, that is.” Cordelia finds the sudden blush on her cheeks amusing. While odd coming from the frosted tip Inkling’s mouth, it’s heart-warming to have Marie offer her services. Cordelia feels bad for underestimating Marie’s kindness.  

“Maybe you could be the godmother.” Callie teases.

“Don’t you have an off-switch?” Marie grumbles.

“Hey!” Callie folds her arms. The Inkling’s gold eyes scan the ground—there’s something on her mind. “I still can’t believe your dad let that man into the house.” The black haired Inkling says with disgust. “I want to give him a good old smack.”

“Me too.” Marie follows. “God knows what kind of danger you could have faced—what you already faced.” She corrects herself.

“I’m okay—and he’s welcome to stay,” Cordelia stresses that point—more for herself than anyone else. “He is …my brother after all.”

“You’re a better person than I,” Marie grumbles again. Callie nods, agreeing with her cousin’s words. “Brother or not, I’d have his ass on the floor.”

Cordelia shakes her head—she doesn’t want to talk about The General. “So—what are you and Mom going to do now?”

“We’re going to act as messengers for a peace treaty—if we’re lucky enough to get one. There’s still a lot of effort ahead, but, with Mr. Firthe’s efforts at setting up housing—that will help us with our cause. Our meeting earlier was about how the three of us would address Congress.”  

“Don’t forget—we’re looking into sharing our power resources with the Octarians in troubled communities where power isn’t in high quantities,” Marie adds. “It’s going to be a lot of work—no more late nights for me.”

“That’s a good thing—early risers promote productivity.”

“Says you. If you’re so productive, why is our place a constant mess?” She grins, raising a mischievous brow.

“You think you’re so clever…” Callie grumbles under her breath.

Cordelia smiles; she can’t help herself. Listening to these two going back and forth was the comic relief she needed.   

 

Yesterday flew by, Cordelia was so busy that she didn’t even recall the passing hours. The following morning, her father refused to let both Cordelia and the Octoling go. Her mother had done the same, wrapping her frail arms around Cordelia. She whispered in her ear that she’ll always have a home with them, no matter what. It brings peace to Cordelia—maybe her mother’s new lease on life wasn’t so bad. Even The General—no—Fitz was by the door. Cordelia decided that she’d refer to him as Fitz from now on—if she was going to get over what happened, that was the best way to do it. He was no longer a General, but even so, she needs time to get over the trauma she went through. Fitz didn’t say much other than a goodbye, which, was fine for her. She wasn’t ready to converse with him properly.

_One day, she would be._

Cordelia appreciated that the Octoling kept his distance, despite his dislike of Fitz. He had his own issues to work through.

Cordelia and the Octoling arrive at their long-awaited beach house. Cordelia’s tempted to pinch herself—could she live out her life in peace? Glen says his farewells, wishing the two luck in their new home.

The Octoling doesn’t let Cordelia leave the vehicle by foot, scooping her into his arms. He smiles as he pulls the keys from his pocket, sticking them into the lock. She rolls her eyes—he’s showing off. The latch opens—they’re in the living room, eying the staircase up ahead. The Octoling had no intentions of putting her down, whisking her up to their master bedroom.

<I promise you, I’m not letting you leave my sight.> He whispers warmly, opening the glass door. He brushes the lace door curtains aside, gently placing Cordelia on the plush chocolate sheets.

<Hold on,> Cordelia braces one hand in front of her. <I know we’re alone, but—>

<That’s not what I want.> The Octoling lies beside her, guiding her head to his chest.

<Being in here, it feels like a distant memory.> Cordelia admits, her fingers glide against the fabric of his cotton shirt.

<I wish it wasn’t.> He admits softly. <I was scared I’d never get you back. So much happened in so little time, it’s hard to comprehend it all. Now that we’re here, I hope we can get on with our lives.>

<Me too.> Cordelia smiles, his heartbeat soothes her ears. They lie in silence, more than happy to be in each other’s company. No drama, missions, or deals. Just them, together. _Finally._

<One thing’s been on my mind. What the hell was with that Cephalon HQ riddle you told me?>

<It was supposed to be a distraction—I was trying to mislead you.>

<Oh?>

<That was before—well— _everything_ that happened.>

<I get it. I should have expected that you weren’t entirely truthful with me.> Cordelia sighs. <To be honest, I didn’t really trust you—being an Elite Octoling and all…>

<I hope you’ll stop calling me that now. I believe I deserved it.>

<Yes you have, _Radjerd. >_ It feels weird to say—but in a good way.

He pulls her in, giving her a gentle kiss. <I’m relieved. I don’t know what I would have done if you still referred to me as Octoling after everything we’ve gone through.> Cordelia reminds herself, she needs to do her best. She can’t afford to slip up.

<Freydis tells me you want to work for Grizzco now?>

<I do, but we have to learn Inklish. We agreed that once Freydis and I were ready, we’d apply together—but for now, I can’t imagine leaving your side.>

<You know I’ll be fine by myself, right?>

<I don’t care. Life without you isn’t an option.> He says it kindly, but it doesn’t sit well with her.  

<Excuse me?> Cordelia’s tone is sharp.

<I meant that I want us to spend as much time as we can together.> Radjerd laughs. <I didn’t mean to sound commanding.>  Cordelia can’t argue—that’s what she wants too. His violet eyes are soft. “Grant me your life and I give you me.”

_Wait, that was Inklish!_

<Your father taught me some Inklish while we were at the manor. How did I do?>

<You sound adorable.> She giggles. <You still need to work on it though—I’ll help you.>

<I need to know both languages—I don’t want you and our kid keeping me out of the loop.> The stress on his face is laughable—that’s what he’s concerned about?

<Yes, we’ll be keeping secrets from you. Agent-quality intel even.> She laughs, as the Octoling frowns. _< I’m kidding!>_

<You better be. I want her first word to be in Octarian.>

_Oh, here we go._

<Inklish, Octarian, it makes no difference to me.>  

<I even know what I want to name her—your father thought it was a nice name too.>  

<Isn’t it a bit _early_? > Cordelia rolls her eyes. <Also, don’t talk to my dad about names for _my_ kid, okay? >

<I refuse to call our baby _it. > _He says tight-lipped.

<You can call it _the tentacle monster_ for all I care. It’s pointless to discuss names this early. >

<Maybe, but I take this seriously. After finding out about Serilda, I just keep thinking about my own relatives. I have no idea if they’re dead or alive—and right now—I can’t care. I choose to focus on you, and my daughter—in that order.>

Cordelia felt for him—not knowing the fate of family members must have been hard—especially learning about his sister the way he did… Cordelia would let the _daughter_ comment slide—If it brought him peace, who was she to correct him?

<Fine. What’s the name that made a good impression on my dad?>

<Cordelia.>

Cordelia bristles. <Absolutely not! Why the hell would you want to name our kid after me!?>

<Because then I’ll have two _Cordelias_ to love. Your father agreed. >

<That’s the corniest thing I ever heard—I should smack you.> She didn’t want to—the sentiment was cute. Even if it made her want to gag—slightly.

<It’s true.> He sounds upset.

<I’m not allowing that. Come up with a better name.> Cordelia scolds him.  

“No fun.” He frowns but accepts defeat.

<Oh, that was pretty good.> Cordelia perks up.

<I told you I was practicing.> His grin replaces the frown he wore before. <I know we talked about trying it out for real—I want you to fall in love with me for the _right_ reasons, Cordelia. When you do, I want to propose to you, for real. >

<How about this. When I’m ready to commit, I’ll propose to you. Legally, you _are_ a Firthe. > The Octoling nods. <But no crazy-ass wedding like we had at the manor. I want it to be small, simple, and in our backyard. Hopefully, I won’t get kidnapped next time—and hopefully—I can keep my wedding dress…>  Cordelia’s still bitter. That dress was her favourite!

<I can’t wait.> He grins into her forehead, wrapping her in a hug. “I’m happy I love you _._ I wait forever, _My Cordelia.”_

Before, Cordelia never thought herself capable of love. She keeps silent, smiling as a response. She wouldn’t tell the Octoling, no, _Radjerd_ that she wants their arrangement to work out just as much as he does.

But, for now?

It would be her lie to keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, the main story of My Lie to Keep has concluded. 
> 
> Oh my god, its finally done. Thank you so much for reading through this gargantuan story. I'm so happy I could cry. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart. This has been one of the best experiences I've had in a long time. In typical fashion, I could never leave this story behind--which is why I will be writing occasional shorts in 2019. They'll be in the Discord server, so feel free to drop on in! 
> 
> If you're not ready to leave Cordelia and Radjerd just yet, have no fear. The Undercover Heiress is here! It'll be my next series featuring the two, and will be releasing the same times MLTK did--Sunday nights--starting today! [The first two chapters are ready to go, and can be found right here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17121122/chapters/40265624)
> 
> Thank you all again for reading My Lie to Keep. Who knows, if there's a Splatoon 3, I might just pick this series up again. 
> 
> Have a wonderful holiday season, and, a fantastic New Year! I'll see you on the pages of The Undercover Heiress. 
> 
> Love, 
> 
> Rose <3


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